Sealed Fate
by laoisbabe
Summary: While working a case, Gibbs is injured. Tony races to save his boss. Can't give much more away. Plenty of team involvement and angst.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of NCIS. I just enjoy playing with them._**

**SEALED FATE**

Chapter 1

Gibbs' MCRT had just returned to headquarters, having attended a grizzly scene at the home of Navy Seal Commander Matt Lewis and his wife. Ducky and Palmer were downstairs unloading the remains of the Commander's wife, Linda Lewis, and her suspected lover, Lieutenant John Anderson, who had both been shot to death in the bedroom of the Lewis' home. The prime suspect was Linda's husband, Commander Lewis.

Gibbs had received the call just after getting in to work that morning. His team were quickly at the scene and set to work. Witnesses, mainly dawn joggers and dog walkers, had informed them that they had seen Lewis' SUV pull into the drive early that morning. He had entered the house and shortly afterwards shots were heard coming from the house and the police were called. Before the police arrived, Commander Lewis was seen fleeing the scene.

NCIS had been called in because one of the deceased, Lt. Anderson, was a member of the Naval Services. The investigation became theirs and they were following a definite line of enquiry. All evidence pointed to the husband, Commander Lewis, finding his wife in bed with another man, Lt. Anderson, and murdering them both.

So now with the team back at the office, they were chasing down several different avenues of enquiry in an effort to locate their suspect. McGee was checking Lewis' bank records and recent credit card activity. DiNozzo was looking into his service history, tracking down friends and colleagues, people he might turn to for help. Ziva had issued a BOLO on Lewis car and was checking into the victim's background.

Gibbs arrived back from autopsy and looked to his team for an update.

"What've we got?" he asked expectantly as he rounded McGee's desk.

The three team members looked at each other, wondering who would step up first. As usual it was McGee.

"I've been checking Matt Lewis' financials. Nothing out of the ordinary, Boss," he began. "Last credit card transaction was at the weekend at a gas station in Lexington. He made an ATM withdrawal yesterday, two hundred dollars. Nothing that stands out."

Gibbs nodded an acknowledgement.

"DiNozzo!"

"Yes, Boss," Tony replied.

"What've you got?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"He's the Navy's poster boy, Boss. Service record's clean, not even a citation. He's been Seal Team Eight's commander for three years. Some black ops missions, obviously classified, nothing here to signal that he was about to blow a fuse and murder his wife," Tony informed him.

"Yeah – well sometimes there aren't any," Gibbs commented, finally sitting down behind his desk.

"I guess finding your wife in bed with another guy would piss anyone off," Tony commented. "But enough to kill? Did that ever happen to you, Boss?" Tony asked flippantly.

Then his eyes widened and he froze as he heard what he had just asked. Ziva and McGee exchanged similar looks of horror. Tony had blurted out the question without really thinking. Gibbs' glared at him and Tony fearfully shirked the look.

"Only once," Gibbs replied, under his breath, not intending to be heard, but Tony heard. He wasn't brave enough to ask him to elaborate, though. Neither was anyone else and as usual, Gibbs' didn't offer any explanation.

"Ziva," Gibbs said, raising his chin in her direction, his way of prompting his team to speak.

"Lieutenant John Anderson, 38, stationed at Norfolk, former colleague of Commander Lewis, now a training officer at the Academy, divorced, two kids. Linda Lewis, 41, kindergarten teacher. She married Commander Lewis in 2004. They had no children. Interviews with neighbours suggest that the Lieutenant was only ever at the house when the Commander was away. They all seemed to know that she was having an affair with him. It appears that she wasn't very discreet."

"Okay," Gibbs sighed, not overly impressed by the vagueness of information he was receiving. "Not much to tell us where he's headed. Anything on the BOLO?"

"Nothing yet," Ziva replied.

Gibbs shook his head. He had no doubt that being a trained Navy Seal, Commander Lewis would have no trouble disappearing. While this case appeared clear cut at the outset, he knew that it wasn't going to be easy to find Lewis and bring him in.

"McGee, can you track his cell?"

"Sure thing, Boss," McGee replied, already tapping his keyboard. "I have his number. Triangulating cell towers, just a minute….there. Location: 2329 Rosewood, Lexington. That's about two blocks from his house."

"DiNozzo, you and Ziva check it out."

"On it, Boss," Tony replied, relieved to be getting out of the office after his earlier faux pas.

He grabbed his gun and backpack and the two agents hurried to the elevator. Gibbs decided to pay his favourite forensic scientist a visit in the hope that she could point him in the right direction.

"Whatcha got, Abs?" he said as he swaggered into her lab.

"Hey, Gibbs!" she replied with a cheeky grin.

She was always happy to see him. She turned back to face the various screens at her computer station. She brought up a picture of a bullet and a pistol.

"Ducky sent me the rounds he extracted from our victims. All were 9mm rounds and came from a Beretta M9, the same as Matt Lewis' service weapon."

"Confirms what we suspected," Gibbs commented. "Anything else?"

Abby frowned crossly at him.

"Gibbs! You do realise that I was just handed the evidence, not ten minutes ago?" she asked, sounding narked.

"Well, yeah Abs. So….," Gibbs said, trying to conceal the growing grin on his face.

"Hmph," Abby uttered, crossly turning back to the box of evidence on the table behind her.

Gibbs gave her a placating peck on the cheek and left the lab. When Gibbs got back to his desk, his phone rang. He picked it up immediately.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Boss, it's me."

"Yeah, DiNozzo? Did you find him?"

"No, Boss. But we found his cell. Looks like he tossed it," Tony told him.

"Ah, damn it!" Gibbs replied, disappointed. "Get it back here to Abby."

Gibbs hung up and sighed audibly. This guy had disappeared off the face of the earth. But truth be told, Gibbs wasn't surprised. Their suspect was a Seal, highly trained and skilled in the art of vanishing. Finding him wouldn't be easy. He knew that if they were to have any chance of finding Matt Lewis, he would have to think like a Seal. And to do that, he needed coffee!

An hour later, Tony and Ziva were back behind their desks and Lewis' cell phone was down with Abby. She was busy checking call logs, texts and message history. The rest of the team were following up on the tiniest, most insignificant titbits of information. Gibbs tapped his fingers impatiently on his desk.

"Eh, Boss, I might have something," McGee said, eventually breaking the painful silence.

Gibbs raised his head in his direction, signalling him to continue.

"I've found another property in Lewis' name. It was left to him by his father. It's a small cabin in Shenandoah."

"Shenandoah? You got an exact location, McGee?"

"Sure, Boss," McGee said, bringing a survey map up on the plasma screen for all to see. "There! It's pretty remote, about four miles from the nearest vehicle track. Access on foot only, from what I can see."

Gibbs stood up, leaned down and took his Sig Sauer and badge from his desk drawer. As he put them on to his belt, he called across the office.

"DiNozzo! You're with me."

Tony stood up and did exactly the same, grabbing his weapon, badge and his backpack. The two agents strode towards the elevator. Soon they were on the road heading west, Gibbs driving as usual. Tony braved it in the passenger seat, white-knuckled and all as the ride was. The conversation was light as they drove. Awkward silences were broken, usually by Tony, commenting on a sweet car or a hot babe. He even ventured into dangerous territory, bringing up the question that he had accidentally put to Gibbs earlier that day.

"So, Boss, did you really walk in on the missus with someone else?" he asked without inhibition.

Gibbs turned and glared crossly at him and then returned his eyes to the road. But Tony wasn't giving up that easily.

"So which wife was it? My money's on Diane. I could picture her…..I mean not picture her but see her, no not see her….," Tony had dug that hole nice and deep. He realised that it was time to shut up. "Sorry, Boss."

Gibbs didn't comment, just nodded. But unknown to Tony, his probing had transported Gibbs back a decade or more to the night he discovered that his marriage was over. He didn't know how but Tony had hit the nail on the head. It was Diane. He had loved her and had always been faithful to her, but his job ensured that she spent more nights alone than in his company. He blamed himself, of course. They hadn't been married that long and he was still very much in love with her at the time. And when he found her in bed with her lover, he was devastated. He felt like killing the bloke and flew into a rage. He punched the young guy's lights out before storming out and heading to the nearest bar. He didn't venture back home for three days. By the time he got home, Diane had left, marking the end of another disastrous chapter in the love life of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

As they neared Shenandoah, Gibbs' mind returned to the job at hand. After all, they were hunting a double murderer, a man capable of killing with his bare hands. Having read Commander Lewis' file, DiNozzo was understandably intimidated by this man's prowess. Gibbs, on the other, held a great respect for the man who had so valiantly served his country only to be betrayed so cruelly on the home front. He couldn't, however, excuse murder. Life could be cruel sometimes. He too had his life ripped apart by its brutality. His beautiful wife and daughter had been snatched away from him mercilessly. And like Lewis, he too had exacted revenge, but Gibbs liked to think that what he did to Pedro Hernandez was justified, an eye for an eye. Sometimes, in his darker nights, he wondered, though. What happened to Lewis was unfortunate and infidelity hurt like hell but it wasn't a reason to kill someone.

DiNozzo took charge of navigation. He followed the GPS directions using his cell phone app and directed Gibbs off the main road and onto some forestry tracks. To Tony's apparent relief, the pace of their journey slowed as Gibbs reduced his speed, taking into account the poor quality of the road surface. Soon even the surface was gone and they were driving on gravel and dirt. Eventually the road appeared to be consumed by a wall of pine trees and vanished.

"Looks like we're on foot from here," Gibbs commented as he stepped out of the car and stretched his back.

Tony sighed as he looked around. He hated nature. He looked around where they were parked. The previous night's rain had washed the foliage and ensured a fresh pine aroma. The ground was sodden underfoot and all Tony would think of was that his shoes were going to get ruined. He too stepped, albeit gingerly, out of the car and met his boss around at the trunk. Gibbs was putting on his heavy rain jacket and changing from his street shoes to more appropriate hiking boots. Tony didn't bring boots, but at least he had a rain jacket.

"How far is it, Boss?" he asked, a little despondently.

"According to McGee, about four miles south of here," Gibbs replied, taking a rifle from the trunk and loading it.

"I'll bring some water and survival kit, just in case," Tony said, putting the items into his backpack.

He included a flashlight, a map, matches, granola bars and extra ammunition. Although he had never been a Boy Scout, Gibbs had taught him to always be prepared.

"Let's go," Gibbs said, starting off into the trees, slinging a rifle over his shoulder.

Tony followed, like a child being dragged to the dentist, not wanting to go but knowing that he had no choice. Gibbs set a blistering pace, leaving DiNozzo half-jogging to keep up.

"Hey, Boss?" he hollered after a short while.

"Yeah?"

"What if Lewis is here?"

"Well, we bring him in," Gibbs replied, unperturbed by the prospect.

"I know, but if he resists? You know, he's kind of …..."

"If he resists, we call for back up," Gibbs told him.

"Oh," Tony replied, sounding relieved. "Good. I thought you were going to say that we'd bring him in, which wouldn't be easy, him being a lethal weapon and all. So we just keep him there and wait for the cavalry. I like that plan."

Gibbs grinned as he continued on with confident strides. He felt at home in such surroundings. He had been raised in rural surroundings. He marvelled at the wonders of nature, the sights, the sounds, the smells. He breathed in the freshness of the newly washed forest. Intermittently, he would hear Tony cussing as he stumbled over a fallen branch or squelched into a muddy puddle. Tony was the definition of a city slicker, he realised, shaking his head in resignation. He wouldn't survive a night out here by himself, he thought.

They had been walking for maybe forty minutes when Gibbs stopped suddenly. He signalled for Tony to be quiet. Tony caught up and sank to one knee beside Gibbs.

"What is it, Boss?" he whispered.

"Not sure. Thought I saw something," he told him. He scanned the trees. He couldn't see anything. "Stay sharp!"

Tony looked around, suddenly adrenalized by the possibility of danger. He watched Gibbs closely and knew something was gnawing at his famous gut. He was right.

Gibbs continued to hike with determination through the vegetation, but he had an unnerving feeling that they were being watched. He knew that a Navy Seal would be at home in these surroundings and would have no problem concealing himself. Gibbs began to wonder exactly who was hunting whom. He removed the rifle from his shoulder and held it across his chest, at the ready, in case they needed to defend themselves. DiNozzo interrupted his musings.

"Boss, I've lost cell service."

"Okay. You've got the map, haven't you?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, Boss."

"We'll be fine then," Gibbs assured him.

Eventually, after another hour they spotted a clearing ahead of them. Gibbs, using his Marine hand signals, motioned for Tony to get down. Tony didn't have to be asked twice. Both agents dropped to their knees. They watched for a while. There was no sign of movement, so they crept closer until they had a clearer view of the cabin.

Rustic, Tony thought, looking at the log cabin, standing to one side of the clearing. A wood pile leaned against one wall of the structure. There was no sign of life, no light, no smoke, no movement. They remained concealed for some time, watching, before deciding to approach the building. Carefully they emerged from the trees, weapons at the ready, scanning the surroundings. They circled the building, checking for other exits and confirming that there was only one door. They both approached the cabin with stealth. A quick peek in the window confirmed that there was no one there. Gibbs tried the door and it opened. They entered cautiously, searching the dark interior for Lewis.

Tony checked around the small kitchen at the back and moved on to the lone bedroom beside the kitchen.

"Clear," he called.

Gibbs had remained in the open living area which led to the small kitchen. He noted that there was a cup and a plate in the sink. They still looked wet so they couldn't have been there long. Some canned food stuffs were on the table. They had no dust covering them, which made him think that they had only been put there recently. He also noticed as he strolled around the living area that the dust had been disturbed on the floor. He closely observed the room. An open fireplace and stone chimney hearth adorned the west wall. A set of deer antlers hung above the hearth. A patchwork quilt hung over the back of a beautifully carved wooden sofa. Somebody had poured their heart into this cabin, he realised.

"Boss, there's a sleeping bag and some clothes in here," Tony said as he emerged from the bedroom.

"He's been here," Gibbs surmised.

"Well, he's not here now," Tony pointed out, looking out one of the windows towards the forest. "I doubt he's very far away."

He had only said the words when Gibbs noticed a sudden movement from the kitchen area. The pantry door flew open and Lewis emerged with stealth, Beretta aimed at DiNozzo. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Tony had his back to him and obviously hadn't seen him. Gibbs just reacted instinctively. He knew that if he tried to raise the rifle and aim it, it would be too late. He let out a yell and threw himself at Tony, knocking him to the ground.

Tony felt the full weight of Gibbs crashing into him just as two shots rang out. As he hit the ground, he rolled away from Gibbs, simultaneously raising his weapon in the direction of the shooter. He saw the camouflaged figure of Matt Lewis racing for the door. Tony unleashed several rounds in his direction but couldn't tell if he had hit him or not. The Navy Seal disappeared out the door and into the cover of the forest. Tony clambered to his feet and rushed to the door, hoping to catch sight of him, but he had vanished.

"Lost him, Boss," Tony said breathlessly, turning back towards Gibbs.

"Boss?"

_**A/N - so, thats the first chapter. Would love to hear what you think.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/n -Thanks to everyone who reviewed, put alerts up and fav'd my story. It means a lot and is a great encouragement to give ye more. Hope this lives up to expectati****on****s.**_

Chapter 2

"Boss?"

Tony stood, mouth gaping wide open, staring in disbelief. Gibbs was lying face down on the floor and he wasn't moving. He had seen Gibbs hurt before and he would usually be growling or cussing or kicking something, but this time he wasn't. There was a sickening silence. A feeling of dread descended over Tony as he holstered his weapon and tentatively approached his downed boss. He held his breath. This couldn't be happening.

"Boss, are you okay?" he asked, hoping Gibbs' head would rise and he'd give him a stony glare or a telling off.

Ominously, there was no reply. That was when Tony noticed the small hole punched through the back of Gibbs' heavy rain jacket. He swallowed hard, experience telling him what was the cause of it. He slowly raised the bottom of the jacket and was sickened by what it revealed: a growing bloodstain on Gibbs' shirt.

"No, no, God… no!"

He carefully rolled Gibbs onto his side and was even more horrified to see a larger pool of blood already forming beneath him. The source of the blood was an exit wound to the right of Gibbs' belly button. His head hung limply as Tony awkwardly tried to cradle him in his arms.

"Don't do this to me, Boss," he pleaded emotionally. He lowered Gibbs gently to the floor and felt for a pulse. He was alive, at least for now. He quickly realised the peril of their predicament, remembering how long it had taken them to hike to the cabin. His boss needed help and Tony knew that they were miles from anywhere and help was a long way off.

He took out his cell phone to call 911 and cursed when he remembered that there was no service. He checked in Gibbs' pockets and found his phone. Please, please, please, he willed as he held it up in the air, hoping to see bars but again, no service.

"Damn it! Come on, Boss," he begged, willing him to wake up. He gently tapped Gibbs' cheek, hoping to stir him. "Open your eyes for me, Boss. Open your eyes!" he practically ordered as he pressed his knuckles into Gibbs' sternum. Still there was no response.

The jagged exit wound in Gibbs' flank was bleeding heavily. Tony knew he would have to stop the bleeding if Gibbs was to have any chance of survival. He looked around for something that he could use. There wasn't much. Behind the wooden sofa, an ornate dresser stood against the wall, decorated with colourful old china and a few tacky ornaments. He opened the drawers and found silverware and some linen. There were table napkins and a white table cloth, just what he needed. With his knife he ripped the table cloth into strips. He folded the napkins into thick wads and pressed them firmly against Gibbs' abdominal wound.

His actions drew a pitiful groan from the wounded man. Gibbs' eyes fluttered open and he found himself looking into DiNozzo's terrified face. He raised his head slightly off the ground, just enough to see the blood on his shirt before dropping his head to the floor with a thud and another woeful moan.

"Take it easy, Boss," Tony said, as he tried to secure a long strip of table cloth around Gibbs' waist. "You've been shot. It's a through and through," Tony explained as calmly as he could, "but I need to stop the bleeding."

Gibbs' breathing was reminiscent of a woman in labour, in short shallow pants. It was his way of trying to cope with the searing pain. He felt like his body was being torn in two. As Tony tied the cloth tightly around his mid-rift, the agony flared and Gibbs felt as though he was going to pass out again.

"Sorry, Boss," Tony apologised, knowing what he was doing must have been torture for Gibbs. "No, no, no, come on, stay with me," he pleaded once more when Gibbs' eyes rolled back in their sockets.

He tapped Gibbs gently on the cheek again, coaxing him back to consciousness. Once more, Gibbs' eyes fluttered open.

"There you go, Boss," Tony said, relieved to see those cobalt eyes staring back at him. "I need to get this off you, Boss," Tony told him, referring to his rain jacket. He needed better access to the wounds so he could treat them and the heavy material of the jacket prevented that.

Slowly he raised Gibbs into a semi-seated position. Gibbs' breathing changed as the agony of the movement ripped through him. Carefully but quickly Tony removed his jacket one sleeve at a time, all the while supporting Gibbs' ailing body in his arms. The wound on his back didn't seem to be bleeding as heavily as the one in front but he would have to bandage it also.

"I'm going to lay you on your side so I can tend to this wound, okay, Boss?"

"Do it," Gibbs managed to reply through gritted teeth.

Gently, Tony laid him down on his side. There was no doubt that the movement was torture for his boss, but he never complained. Again Tony fashioned a dressing from the cloth napkins and pressed it against Gibbs' back. He noted with some concern how close the entry wound had come to his spine but kept his concerns to himself. He secured the dressing, this time, using the belt from his trousers.

"You still with me, Boss?" he asked, leaning over to check on him.

"Still …here," Gibbs replied, sounding weak.

Tony reached up and took a cushion from the sofa and placed it under Gibbs' head. He contemplated trying to get Gibbs up onto the sofa to make him more comfortable. He considered the amount of suffering the movement would cause him and the likelihood of causing more bleeding, so decided against it. It was best to make him as comfortable as possible where he was. Tony knew, however, that he would have to go for help. That meant leaving his wounded boss alone. He stood up, walked to the window and looked out into the tree line. There was no sign of Lewis, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. He walked to the door and only then noticed that there was blood on the door frame. It looked like he had gotten a piece of Lewis after all.

He looked into the haunting tree-lined horizon. It was getting late. The sun was low and it would be dark soon. Tony knew that if he was going to go for help that it had to be sooner rather than later. He looked down at Gibbs, who was now breathing more heavily. Perspiration dampened his silver hair and forehead as he struggled to cope with his injury.

Tony knelt down in front of Gibbs so his he could see him.

"Boss, I really don't want to leave you like this but I have to go for help," Tony told him, fighting back tears that threatened to fall.

Gibbs looked into his senior field agent's eyes. He could see that Tony was heartbroken. There was something in his eyes that just reached in and touched Gibbs' soul. He extended his hand out and took Tony's hand in his. It wasn't often that he touched the younger agent. Usually they only connected when he dished out the occasional, but well-deserved, head-slap. This time it was different. The touch held significance; it was a poignant moment for both men.

"Be careful," Gibbs gasped, looking into Tony's eyes. He could see his own fears mirrored in DiNozzo's eyes.

"I will, Boss. I'll be back. You just hang on. Take this," Tony said, placing Gibbs' Sig Sauer into his hand. "I clipped him but he might come back. Just in case."

Gibbs took the weapon and laid it on the ground within easy reach.

Before he left, Tony fetched the sleeping bag from the bedroom and covered Gibbs' torso with it. He could see that Gibbs was going into shock by the tremors that gripped him every minute or two. His pallor was becoming more ashen by the second. He had to move fast. His boss was running out of time.

He cast a final worried glance at Gibbs before stepping out into the night. It was one of the most difficult things he had ever done, walking away and leaving him there, but he had little choice. If he stayed, he knew that Gibbs would bleed out without medical attention. At least, by going for help, he was giving him a fighting chance. He decided to head back towards their car and call for help as soon as he got cell phone coverage. He just hoped he could get there and back without Lewis finding him. Somehow, he knew Lewis wouldn't be in a very helpful mood.

Gibbs watched through increasingly unfocused eyes as DiNozzo disappeared into the dusk. He realised that it was probably the last time he would see the young man he had come to consider a son. He knew his injury was severe and didn't hold out much hope of getting out of there alive. He was a seasoned Marine who had witnessed the horrors of war. He had seen comrades similarly wounded, gut-shot as they called it. It was a horrible, slow and agonising death. He reached for the cold steel of his Sig Sauer for reassurance. If the pain got too bad, using it was always an option he thought, a last resort. But right now, he needed to conserve his strength. He felt so weak and completely exhausted. He allowed his eyes to close and wondered if he would ever open them again.

Back at the Navy Yard, Ziva was beginning to get concerned.

"McGee, have you heard from Tony or Gibbs at all?"

"Not since they reached the trail. They should have been at the cabin by now. Have you tried to call them?" McGee wondered.

"Yes, both phones are going straight to voicemail."

"Maybe there's no cell service. Sometime if the trees are dense or they're shielded by mountains, cell coverage would be patchy. I'll see if I can track their cells," McGee decided.

Ziva walked over to his desk and stood behind him impatiently. She watched as he brought up a topographical map of the area and highlighted the nearest cell towers.

"You see these cell towers? They cover this area. The cabin is roughly in this area," he said, pointing to the map on his screen. "There would be no coverage there. Hopefully, they'll get back into range soon," he said, trying not to panic just yet.

"Okay," Ziva said, she too not wanting to appear unnecessarily concerned just yet.

Just then, Abby bounded into the bullpen, full of energy as usual.

"Hey, guys. How's it going up here?"

Ziva and McGee exchanged a brief look before McGee replied.

"Oh, eh, fine."

"What was that?" Abby asked suspiciously.

"What?" Ziva asked.

"That look…..there. Something's going on. Don't even try to lie to me, McGee. You know you can't lie to me," she said in a pseudo-threatening fashion.

"It's nothing, Abs. It's just that we haven't heard from Gibbs and Tony in a while, that's all," McGee told her truthfully.

"That's all. That's all?" her voice raising a pitch. "When did you last hear from them?"

"About three hours ago," Ziva told her.

"Three hours, that's not long I guess….. if you're out shopping or on a trip to the zoo, but considering they're out in the woods with a highly trained killing machine on the loose who could easily snap their necks without a second thought, I'd say "yes", McGee, time to worry!" she ranted as she began pacing.

"Okay, I agree. Let's go," Ziva said with determination.

"Let's go? Now?" McGee asked.

"Of course now. You're not afraid of the dark, are you McGee?" Abby asked crossly.

"No! Of course not. It's just….well, it is dark and we don't know where we're going," McGee replied.

"There are night vision goggles down in the lockers in the garage," Abby told them. "We'll be fine."

"We? Eh, you're staying here, Abs," McGee told her.

"But…"

"Like you said, there's a trained killer out there. It's too dangerous," McGee insisted. "And Gibbs would kill me if I let you come."

Abby hated it but knew he was right. She had no choice. Waiting, wondering, praying…story of her life.

Ziva and McGee hurried to their car, making a brief detour via the forensics garage to pick up the night vision goggles and some other equipment they thought might be of use. They had an hour and a half's drive ahead of them, but with Ziva's driving, it would probably only take an hour.

Meanwhile, Tony was trudging through the darkening forest. He was grateful that he had his flashlight and kept it aimed at the ground ahead of him. He knew that if Lewis was out there, he had to make himself as invisible as he could. If he ran into him, Tony knew he was finished….and so was Gibbs. As he trekked, he would pause every so often to check his cell for a signal. He would raise it above his head and wave it around and hope. He cursed each time he was disappointed. Hang on, Boss.

Matt Lewis had watched from the tree-line as the younger of the two strangers exited his cabin. The inappropriately-attired man had disappeared into the trees. He wondered why he had left his pal at the cabin and assumed he was waiting there for him to return. Lewis touched his throbbing shoulder and knew he had to do something about the bleeding. But he had nothing but the clothes he was wearing and his weapon. He had to get back into the cabin and tend to his wound. He was confident he could overpower the other man, despite his injury. He crept silently to the cabin and up onto the veranda. One step creaked as he stood on it and he froze, listening for the occupant to react. He listened for several seconds but heard nothing inside. He continued on and reached the door. It wasn't secured, so he slowly pushed it open and stood back.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he inspected the interior. That was when he saw a figure lying on the floor. At first he thought it was a dead body. Only then did he realise that he had in fact hit one of them earlier. He continued towards the body. He noted a blood pool staining the wooden floor a few feet away. As he neared the figure on the floor, he spotted the man's hand resting on a weapon. Slowly he reached down and took it from him. The hand was still warm, he noticed. He held Gibbs' wrist, checking for a pulse and was surprised to find one.

The guy was still alive, which probably meant that the other guy he had seen leaving the cabin had gone to get help. He found Gibbs' wallet and ID. Discovering that he was an NCIS agent, he realised that the authorities were closing in. He had to act fast. There were torn strips of fabric and napkins littering the floor; just what he needed. He walked to the kitchen and found the bottle of disinfectant under the sink where his mom had always kept it. He opened his shirt and poured it over his bullet wound.

"Aaargh!" he cried, but no one heard.

He grabbed onto the kitchen table and waited for the pain to subside. The bullet was still in his shoulder, which meant he would have to get it out himself. He opened the pantry, where he had been hiding earlier. Inside, hanging on a hook, was his sheathed hunting knife. He took it out and poured the disinfectant over it. He returned to the cupboard and took out a bottle of whiskey from the back. Deciding it was best he sit down for the rest, he pulled a chair out from the table and sat. He opened the whiskey and took several large gulps to try and dull the pain. Taking deep breaths to psyche himself up, he then probed his wound with his finger. He found the bullet lodged just beneath his clavicle. Taking the knife in his right hand and biting down on a wooden spoon, he inserted the tip of his hunting knife into the wound. He felt the steel tip scrape off the bullet. As he dug it deeper into his flesh, black spots danced before his eyes. He levered the bullet upwards and out of his shoulder, emitting an agonised cry as he did so. The pain was too much and it overwhelmed him. He passed out and slid off the chair onto the kitchen floor.

In the darkness of the forest, Tony was starting to doubt if he was even going in the right direction. He hoped that he was still on the right trail, but everything looked so different at night. He felt like he had been walking for hours. He was jumping at shadows and flinching at the slightest noise. His heart was pounding. He paused to catch his breath, again checking his cell phone.

And there is was - two bars. The most welcome sight he had ever seen. He had coverage, what a relief! Immediately, he called McGee.

"Tony! Where the hell are you? We were getting worried," McGee asked eagerly, relieved to hear from his colleague.

"It's good to hear your voice, McGee. You need to send help. The boss has been shot. I had to leave him back at the cabin; there was no cell coverage. I had to leave him," Tony repeated breathlessly.

"Woah, slow down, Tony. Are you okay?" McGee asked.

"I'm fine but Gibbs…it's bad, McGee. Just tell them to hurry. I've got to go. I have to get back to him," Tony told him.

"Wait, Tony. We're on our way already. We should be at the end of the track in about fifteen minutes. What about Lewis?" McGee enquired.

"He shot Gibbs. He got away. He's still out here somewhere, so be careful," Tony warned.

"I'll be okay. I have Ziva," McGee told him.

Tony smiled. He knew that Ziva would be more than a match for Lewis. Her Mossad training would stand her in good stead. Tony hung up the phone and doubled back on the track, towards the cabin. All he could think of was his Gibbs. Would he still be alive when he got back? He wasn't sure how he would cope if he got to the cabin and found Gibbs was dead. It didn't bear thinking about. With every step he took, he willed Gibbs to hang on.

_**to be continued...**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Back at the cabin, Commander Lewis slowly regained consciousness. He felt the stickiness of his own blood that was starting to coagulate on his shirt. He reached up from where he lay on the floor for the support of the kitchen table as he attempted to get to his feet. Shakily, he stood up and leaned heavily on the table, breathing through his pain. He was startled when he heard a soft moan from behind him. He turned warily to see who was there. He saw Gibbs lying on the floor in the living area, and events of the last twenty four hours quickly flooded back.

He approached the injured man and leaned down stiffly to check his pulse. He was surprised when Gibbs unexpectedly opened his eyes, grabbed his arm and glared at him. Lewis held his glare defiantly. Gibbs barely had the strength to maintain his grasp on Lewis' wrist. His grip soon relaxed and his hand slid to the ground.

"Looks like you're done for, cop," Lewis said, sounding indifferent to Gibbs' fate. He stood up and turned away.

Gibbs didn't reply. He was too busy concentrating on controlling his breathing. Every instinct he had told him to fight back and take this murderer down, but he knew Lewis was right. He didn't have long. He wondered how long it had been since DiNozzo had left. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. He feared that Lewis had got Tony too and prayed that his young charge was safe at least. He watched as Lewis walked to the window and looked out, scanning the tree line for movement. He was watching for someone. Gibbs hoped that meant that Tony was still out there.

Lewis wasn't at the window for long when he saw a shadow move in the darkness. Tony had made good time, having jogged most of the way back to the cabin. He slowed to a brisk walk as he reached the open area surrounding the cabin to help catch his breath. As he looked toward the cabin, the unthinkable crossed his mind. What if he was too late? He quickened his pace once more as he reached the steps of the veranda. Having seen him coming, Lewis concealed himself behind the door and removed his Beretta from his waistband.

"I'm back, Boss," Tony announced as he bounded through the cabin door. "You'd better be alive because…," he started to say before being knocked to the ground by Lewis, who stepped out behind him and whacked him with the butt of his gun.

Gibbs had heard DiNozzo enter and was horrified when he witnessed his Senior Agent hit the floor hard only metres from where he lay. Gibbs instinctively tried to sit up and do something to help, but the pain of that simple movement erupted through him like a fire and he blacked out once more.

Lewis dragged DiNozzo across the room and hauled him onto one of the kitchen chairs. He propped him up while he tied his upper body securely to the chair. Then he tied each of his legs to a leg of the chair. He cursed under his breath when he stood back and looked at the unconscious agent. He was beginning to feel like he was being backed into a corner. He presumed that the younger man had called for help and that the place would soon be crawling with cops.

He walked slowly around his cabin, recalling the good times he had spent there with his mom and dad and older brother, Nick, when he was young lad. The summers seemed to last forever back then. He and Nick had shared many an adventure in the forest and down by the river. They were innocent times. He had joined the Navy straight after high school and excelled therein. Seal training seemed like a natural progression for him. He had met his wife, Linda, while stationed at Norfolk. Life was good. She was the love of his life and it pained him every time his duty forced them apart for long periods of time.

He sat down heavily on the sofa, the unconscious body of Leroy Jethro Gibbs at his feet. He looked down at the NCIS agent. It didn't look like he was breathing. He presumed that he was dead. Whether out of respect or shame for what he'd done, he pulled the sleeping bag up and covered Gibbs' face.

His thoughts then returned to his wife and the scene that had greeted him when he got home that morning. Five weeks this time, he had been gone for five weeks. Once he had been debriefed at the base, while his team headed out for beers, he rushed to his jeep and couldn't wait to get home to hold his wife. The last thing he expected was what he found. He hadn't really passed any remarks on the silver car parked on the road outside his house. He had sneaked inside without turning on any lights and headed straight for his bedroom to surprise her. But it was he who was surprised. He felt sick to his stomach at the sight, his wife lying naked on their bed, her arms draped around another man.

He remembered turning on the light and both his wife and her lover sitting up in shock. He didn't really remember very much after that. It was like a switch had been flicked and a primal rage tore through him. It felt almost as if he had been wounded and he went into self-preservation mode. He fought back. He remembered shots, screaming and making his escape. Then he found himself on the road to Shenandoah and he felt calm again. He made his way to the cabin, the one place in the world where he felt truly safe.

But now that safety had disappeared too. The Navy cops knew where he was. He had killed one of their officers and he knew he was going away for a long time. His career was over and so was life as he knew it. In his hands were two handguns. He held one in each hand, feeling the weight of each. They offered him a way out. He once swore that he would never be a victim of his own weapon, so he laid his Beretta by his side. He caressed Gibbs' Sig Sauer, appreciating the workmanship of the weapon while he tried to summon the strength to use it.

Unknown to him, McGee and Ziva were fast approaching his cabin. McGee carried a backpack with medical supplies, ammunition, water and a satellite phone. Ziva was in "ninja mode" as Tony would have remarked, had he been there. She covered the uneven ground nimbly, her weapon at the ready, prepared for whatever situation they faced.

Reaching the edge of the treeline, she signalled for McGee to stop. They watched the cabin and noted a dim light but no obvious activity.

"Tony should have made it back here by now," Ziva whispered, expecting that he would have been looking out for them.

She barely had the words out of her mouth when a shot rang out and a muzzle flash illuminated the dark cabin window momentarily.

"No!" she cried, immediately getting to her feet and charging in the direction of the cabin, weapon trained on the door.

McGee dropped the backpack, drew his weapon and followed close behind. The only light they had to guide them was the small beam from the light mounted on their weapons and the occasional glimpse of the moonlight through the clouds. They rushed up the steps and paused either side of the door, each leaning their backs against the rough wooden exterior. Ziva nodded a signal to enter, so McGee stood back and kicked the door open before scanning the scene with his flashlight. They both progressed inside and quickly surveyed the interior.

McGee's flashlight fell on the dead body of a man slumped to one side on the sofa, an obvious bullet wound to his head unquestionably the cause of death. As his light reached the floor near the deceased, McGee saw another body that was covered by a sleeping bag. Tim's breathing sounded loud in the eerie silence of the cabin. He was visually checking the rest of the cabin when he heard a slight panic in Ziva's voice.

"Tony?" she cried, seeing her colleague bound and bleeding on a chair in the kitchen area.

She ran to him and felt his neck for a pulse. She was more than relieved to feel a strong pulse.

"We're clear," McGee said, relaxing slightly. "Is he okay?"

"I think so. I need more light," Ziva said, looking around for options.

There were candles on the mantle and a paraffin lamp on the dresser. McGee lit as many as he could find and soon the cabin was basking in a warm glow. However, the scene looked more gruesome in the soft light. Commander Lewis' blood was spattered over a large area of the living room behind the sofa. McGee turned his attention to the body beneath the sleeping bag. His heart beat quickened and his stomach flipped when he noticed the silver grey hair protruding from one end.

Tentatively, he approached the body. He knelt down and hesitated before removing the sleeping bag from the victim's face.

"Oh, God!" he said in disbelief when he saw his boss.

"What is it?" Ziva asked, as she cut Tony free from his binds.

"Gibbs. He's….," McGee couldn't finish the sentence.

Ziva turned towards him, seeing the pain in McGee's face as he stared at the body on the floor. No, he couldn't be dead. Ziva wouldn't accept it.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

McGee leaned in close, listening for breathing sounds and couldn't hear anything. Gently he placed his fingers on Gibbs' neck. Time stood still as he waited for that flutter of life and suddenly, miraculously, there it was. At first, he wasn't sure if he was imagining it. He removed his fingers and tried again. Yes…there was definitely a pulse.

"He's got a pulse!" he announced with excitement. "He's still alive. I need the backpack," he said, running back out into the night to where he had dropped it.

Meanwhile, Ziva continued to try and rouse Tony. It didn't take long for him to come around.

"Tony, are you okay?"

"Ziva? I…. what are you….?" Tony asked, his confusion evident. His senses returned slowly. "Lewis, he's here," he warned, his breathing quickening as his stress level rose.

"He's dead," Ziva told him without emotion.

"Who? Gibbs?"

"No, Lewis. Looks like he killed himself," Ziva replied.

"And the boss? Is he….?"

Ziva looked towards where Gibbs lay, her heart breaking. It just wasn't right.

"Alive."

Outside, McGee quickly located his backpack and took out the sat phone. He had called Search and Rescue earlier, from the car but he called again, this time giving them GPS co-ordinates. He explained that they had two injured agents who needed emergency extraction to a hospital. As he and the operator spoke, it became clear that they would not be able to get the helicopter near the cabin for the extraction. They decided that the nearest place they could put the chopper down was at the river bed, which was about half a mile south of their position. McGee offered to carry Gibbs to the landing zone but the operator advised against it. Moving the victim could easily kill him, he advised. The operator promised that the paramedics would get to them as soon as they possibly could and asked them to remain where they were.

McGee agreed reluctantly. He hurried back inside the cabin and took up position at Gibbs' side. He opened his backpack and took out medical supplies and dressings. He easily located Gibbs' wound and noted that the hastily fashioned dressings were soaked through. He carefully removed the sodden napkins and placed a pressure bandage over the ugly exit wound in his abdomen. The wound was still oozing blood so he pressed hard to keep pressure on it. Gibbs' abdomen was distended, he noted. McGee knew that meant Gibbs was bleeding internally also. He was very worried. What if the paramedics didn't make it on time?

"How's he doing, McGee?" Tony asked, getting shakily to his feet and walking towards them.

"Not so good," McGee replied honestly. "Rescue paramedics are on their way. Are you okay?"

"Sure, I'm fine," Tony replied, leaving out the part where the room was spinning and he was most likely concussed.

McGee looked up at the dazed expression on Tony's face. It was a look he had seen on a few occasions before, more specifically following a head injury. The three agents gathered around their fallen boss, feeling completely useless. He was slowly dying before their eyes and there wasn't a thing they could do to help him. After a few minutes of silence, McGee stood up with purpose.

"Ziva, take over," he said forcefully.

With that Ziva knelt down and placed her hands on the bandage, looking up curiously at McGee. Tony asked the question that she intended.

"Where you going, McGee?"

"To build a fire," McGee replied.

"Really? Now? Darn it! I forgot to bring the marshmallows," Tony replied, trying unsuccessfully to lighten the mood. Tony was always one to use humour as a defense mechanism. Sometimes the timing was inappropriate. This time McGee chose to ignore the joke.

"To guide the rescue helicopter to our location. If they see the fire from the air, it should help them find us a little quicker," McGee explained.

"Good thinking, McScout," Tony said, rubbing his temple to ease the throbbing.

"Just stay with Gibbs," McGee told him. "Talk to him."

Tony nodded as McGee disappeared out the door. He knelt down by Gibbs' head. Sweat glistened on Gibbs' forehead and his hair was stuck to his head from perspiration. He looked so deathly pale, Tony noticed. His breathing was so shallow, Tony couldn't be sure if he was breathing at all.

With tears in his eyes, he carefully raised Gibbs' head to rest on his lap. He stroked his hair as he spoke encouraging words to him. He didn't care that Ziva was watching. Nothing else mattered. Gibbs was slipping away in front of him. Ziva watched the touching, yet tragic, scene. She knew how close Tony was to Gibbs. Although he tried to disguise it, she could tell how much he loved the man. Their relationship had matured over time and they had become very close, like father and son. She could see it happening to her too. When she first came to work at NCIS, she respected the man. Her respect grew to admiration as he proved, over and over again, his loyalty to his team and to her. He had taken a personal interest in all their lives, especially in hers after she cut ties with her natural father. He had taken numerous risks to help them in the past. She knew he would willingly lay his life down for any of his team. She just hoped that this wasn't that dreadful occasion.

McGee burst back into the cabin and grabbed a kerosene lamp from the dresser.

"I need the kerosene to start the fire quickly," he said by way of explanation, and left as quickly as he had entered.

McGee went back out into the night. He had piled firewood and some kindling in a tee-pee shape in the open area. He unscrewed the shade from the lamp and poured the kerosene over the wood. He struck a match and stood back as the wood erupted into flames. Within minutes the fire was crackling and spitting embers into the night sky. He looked skywards, hoping to hear the sound of the helicopter rotors. He waited and patiently tended the fire. He couldn't bear to go back inside and watch Gibbs slowly bleed to death before his eyes. He just couldn't do it. At least outside he felt like he was doing something.

As he stood there in the chill of the night, he was startled as his sat phone rang. It was Abby.

"McGee! Where are you? You were supposed to call me," Abby said crossly.

" Abby!" McGee said, sounding shocked. "I, eh….things got hectic."

"You should have called me. Did you find the cabin? And Gibbs and Tony?" Abby asked eagerly.

"Yeah, we found them, Abby," McGee told her. He didn't know how he was going to tell her the rest. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Abby, listen to me. Something went wrong. Lewis is dead and Gibbs…..Gibbs was shot."

"What? He's okay though, right?" she asked, trying to convince herself.

"I don't know. I'm waiting on the rescue helicopter to airlift him to the hospital. It looks pretty bad, Abby," he told her despondently.

"Oh, please, no," she said, breaking down. "You've got to save him, McGee. Please, save him," she pleaded.

"I'm trying, Abby. I really am…it's just…"

There was no point in scaring her any further. He wanted to tell her exactly what the obstacles were to getting Gibbs out of the forest and to civilisation. He wanted to tell her how severely injured Gibbs was. He wanted her to know that if he didn't make it, it wasn't because he didn't try. He didn't want her to blame him if it all went wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to share his fears. Instead, he told her that he had to go and hung up abruptly.

The call left Abby shocked and distraught. She stood in her lab, staring at the phone for ages, trying to absorb the earth-shattering news she had just received. Gibbs was hurt, worse still, seriously hurt and there was nothing she could do. Whatever happened was out of her hands. She had an abundance of technology and a brilliant mind at her disposal but all that was redundant in this crisis. She conjured up a disturbing image of her beloved Gibbs lying on the forest floor, all alone and bleeding out. But she knew he wasn't alone. McGee was with him and so were Ziva and Tony. They would never let anything happen to her Gibbs.

She looked at the clock. It was late. She didn't expect that Vance was still in his office, but she took a chance that Ducky might still be there. She picked up the phone and dialled autopsy. To her surprise he answered almost immediately.

"Ducky?"

"Ah, Abigail, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, Ducky….," she sobbed. "It's…it's too awful"

"My dear girl, whatever is the matter?" Ducky asked, noticing her distress.

"Gibbs. He's been shot," she blurted out before breaking down.

"Shot? Oh Lord. How bad?" Ducky asked, understandably shocked.

"I don't know, but McGee said it was bad," she told him. "And McGee would never say it was bad unless it was really bad."

"I'll be right up," Ducky said, hanging up and hurrying to the elevator.

_**TBC - thanks for your reviews. Would love to hear what you think of this chapter.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N - Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Was away for a couple of days. So now - back to it! Again, thanks to all who have read and reviewed**_.

Chapter 4

McGee stood, staring up at the stars and occasionally throwing logs on the bonfire that he had built. It was blazing now and as he stood there, he appreciated the warmth that it offered. He checked his watch anxiously wondering where the rescuers were. He cast an occasional glance in the direction of the cabin. It was eerily quiet. From where he stood, no one would have realised that anyone was inside, let alone the horrific scene hidden within. He willed Mountain Rescue to hurry. Then as he recommenced his pacing, he heard the sweetest, most welcome sound he could have imagined: the sound of helicopter rotors in the distance. He ran to the cabin door to alert the others.

"They're coming," he announced.

Tony barely felt a sliver of relief as he looked down at Gibbs' sweat-covered face.

"Do you hear that, Boss? Help is on its way. Just hold on a little longer," he urged.

He was startled when Gibbs drew a deep, shuddering breath and pried his heavy eyelids open. Much to his surprise, Tony found himself looking down into two pain-filled eyes. Then with great effort, Gibbs tried to speak. Tony leaned closer to hear what he was saying.

"Not…..dying," he panted, trying his best to glare at Tony.

"What? Of course you're not dying, Boss," Tony snapped back, chastising himself for even thinking Gibbs would give up on him. "I knew that. I just meant….you know, that our ride will be here shortly and it's time you were up."

Tony caught Gibbs' weak smile and noticed his eyes threatening to close again.

"No! No, you don't," Tony said, deliberately moving Gibbs' shoulders to rouse him. "You're awake now, might as well stay that way. C'mon, Boss, just stay with me."

Gibbs looked back up at Tony and then at Ziva. The fire in his gut was agonising. He really didn't want to be awake through this, but he recognised the fear in his agents' faces. Part of him wanted to let go, to slip away from the torture, the loneliness and his personal heartache, but something inside told him to keep fighting, so that's what he did. He picked out a knot of wood on the cabin ceiling and tried to focus on that instead of the hot poker in his gut. He drew some comfort from being held by his senior agent. For some reason, he always assumed that he would die alone. This wasn't what he had envisaged. There was a time when he thought that his death would be by his own hand, but now the decision had been taken out of his hands. As he lay there, he realised that he didn't like the loss of control over his fate. His mind wandered to the people he loved, his father and his team. He thought of Dr. Ryan. He was really starting to fall for her. He knew she wouldn't take his death very well. He hated the thought of any of them suffering because of him. At least the words "in line of duty" would look heroic on his gravestone, he thought cynically, as the darkness threatened to claim him once more.

The sound of Tony's voice brought him back to reality.

"I'm so sorry, Boss," he said, the guilt dripping from his words. "I should have checked the larder. I never thought anyone….I really messed up. I should …I should have had your six, Boss."

Tony looked away over his shoulder, trying to hide his tears from Ziva and from Gibbs. Ziva was stunned at Tony's words and wondered what had really happened and how Gibbs had ended up in this position, but she didn't dare ask. It wasn't the right time. There was no point upsetting anyone right now. She also knew that if Tony had reason to feel responsible, then nothing would make him feel any worse than he already did.

Gibbs hated that Tony was blaming himself. The only person responsible for all this was dead on the sofa to their left. He took a few quick short breaths before uttering:

"Not….your.…fault."

Tony slowly turned back and allowed his eyes to meet Gibbs'. They shared a silent understanding and nothing more was said. Gibbs held on as long as he could but the blood loss was too great. His eyes rolled back in their sockets, much to Tony and Ziva's horror.

"Boss?" Tony said, fearing Gibbs' had let go.

To his relief, he felt the effort of another difficult breath from Gibbs as he held him. Tony continued to cradle his boss's head on his lap, occasionally stroking his damp hair, hoping to offer the unconscious man some solace.

"Is he breathing?" Ziva asked, unable to tell from where she knelt.

She leaned in and placed her cheek close to Gibbs' mouth and nose. If he was breathing, she couldn't tell. She cast a worried glance towards Tony. Tony nodded. To be sure she placed two of her fingers on his neck, checking for a carotid pulse. It was weak but it was there.

Outside, McGee stood on the southern end of the clearing and shone his flashlight into the darkness, hoping that it would give the rescuers some guidance to the cabin. He knew the chopper had landed and expected to see the medics sometime soon. He didn't have to wait long. He saw the beam of their flashlights as they approached and yelled a greeting to guide them. As they emerged from the darkness, Tim felt like hugging them but resisted, wanting to keep appearances professional at least.

"Am I glad to see you guys," he said, shaking hands with each of the two men.

"I'm Chris, this is Dr. Martinez. Where are the patients?" the older of the men asked.

"This way. They're inside. My boss has lost a lot of blood," McGee told him, unable to hide his concern.

"Is he conscious?" Martinez asked, having been briefed on the patients' conditions en-route.

"He's in and out," McGee replied, as he jogged up the steps and entered the dimly lit cabin.

McGee's breath caught in his throat when he came through the door and saw Ziva leaning over Gibbs, forcing life-giving breath into his lungs. DiNozzo looked up McGee, tears trailing down his face.

"He just stopped breathing."

The medics pushed past the shocked young agent and quickly got to work. Chris knelt by Gibbs' side, opened his kit and produced an Ambu bag. He signalled for Ziva to step back, which she did, and he took over artificial respirations. Martinez walked over to Matt Lewis' body first and quickly did a check. It was pretty obvious that the Navy Seal was deceased, but it was always prudent to check. Convinced, he turned his full attention to Gibbs. He knelt down to check his pulse.

"Pulse is weak," he announced.

Slowly he raised the bandage to inspect the exit wound in Gibbs' abdomen and palpated the surrounding area, trying to ascertain the extent of the internal damage. There was no denying his abdomen was distended, which meant internal bleeding. He replaced the dressing with a fresh pressure bandage. Then he attached a portable blood pressure monitor to Gibbs' arm and waited for the reading.

"Sixty over forty," he eventually declared. Chris nodded, continuing to artificially ventilate Gibbs. Martinez listened to his chest.

"Breathing's laboured."

"He's bleeding internally?" Chris surmised. Martinez nodded in agreement.

"We need to get a line in and try to stabilise him before we move him," Chris said, handing the Ambu bag to Ziva. "Will you take over?" he asked, as he produced a bag of saline from his kit.

Ziva took the bag and continued the artificial respiration. Chris tried to locate a vein in which to insert the needle so he could start the IV. It took a couple of attempts, but he finally managed to get the cannula inserted. He handed the saline bag to DiNozzo.

"Keep this above his heart and squeeze it gently," he instructed. Tony did as he was asked without question.

"Sounds like there's blood in his pleural cavity, compressing his lung, making it difficult for him to breathe," Martinez told them. He looked at his colleague. Their patient needed a chest tube, but conditions were far from ideal. Dr. Martinez had inserted hundreds of chest tubes, but they were mainly done under sterile hospital conditions. He felt apprehensive about it, but knew his patient wouldn't make it to the helicopter without this intervention.

"I need more light over here," he said as he cut open Gibbs' shirt to allow him easier access.

McGee stepped forward with the flashlight and shone it directly on his boss's body. Martinez sterilised the chest area and counted down the ribs. He made a small incision in Gibbs' chest before inserting a narrow tube through the incision and into his chest cavity. Almost immediately, a trickle of blood began to flow out. Jose taped the tube to secure it in place. Martinez returned his stethoscope to Gibbs' chest and listened to his breath sounds again.

"Okay," he said, sounding a little happier.

Gibbs' team looked on expectantly. No one spoke. A combination of shock and disbelief held them prisoner. They watched helplessly as the medics worked. After a few minutes, Gibbs' began to cough and gasp for breath. Chris and Martinez exchanged glances, confirmation of a job well done. Gibbs was breathing on his own again.

"All right," Chris said, getting the stretcher ready. "Time to get moving. Give me a hand to get him on the stretcher," he said to McGee.

Tony, still squeezing the saline bag, stood to the side, allowing McGee access to Gibbs' shoulders. Chris took hold of Gibbs' legs and between them they manoeuvred him gently onto the stretcher. As they moved him, he emitted a heart-wrenching, agonised groan and his eyes flickered open once more.

"It's okay, Boss. We're getting you out of here," Tony said, leaning down so Gibbs could see him.

Gibbs looked up at his senior agent and held his gaze for as long as he could before the tug of the pain-free darkness coaxed him back.

"Let's hustle," Martinez said with some urgency, knowing their patient's condition was critical. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked DiNozzo, noticing the blood running down his temple.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Let's just go," Tony insisted. No one argued.

Chris and McGee lifted the stretcher and Martinez secured a blanket around his patient. He quickly repacked his equipment into his kit bag and slung it over his shoulder. He took the flashlight and led the way back towards the helicopter. Ziva accompanied him up front while Tony stayed by the side of the stretcher, still holding the saline bag. They wasted no time. They hurried over the rough terrain in the direction of the river where the helicopter was waiting for them. However, traversing the rough terrain in the pitch dark was no small task. They had to take great care not to trip and drop the injured man.

As they trudged through the foliage, Tony began to feel dizzy again. He was still feeling the effects of the bump on the head. He had suffered concussion enough times before to know the symptoms. He rubbed his eyes to try and clear his vision but said nothing about his condition to the others and continued on, not wanting to slow the group down. Time was of the essence. McGee's arms ached as he and the paramedic, Chris, carried Gibbs, but he dared not complain. He knew the urgency of getting Gibbs to a hospital. Right now, that was his priority. His eyes fell on Gibbs' ever paling features. He had to pull through. He daren't imagine the alternative.

All of a sudden, he was ripped from his thoughts when he saw Tony stumble sideways and go down on the trail.

"Woah!" he exclaimed. "Tony!"

Everyone's attention turned to DiNozzo, who was now lying on the muddy forest floor.

"Tony, are you all right?" Ziva asked anxiously as she ran back to him. Dr. Martinez followed quickly behind.

Tony sat up, feeling a little embarrassed and somewhat nauseous. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a few deep breaths, then tried to get to his feet.

"Hey, just take it easy," Martinez said, trying to stop him standing up too quickly. "You're concussed."

"I just got a little dizzy, I'm fine," he said, staggering to his feet.

"You are obviously not fine," Ziva pointed out.

"Let me have a look at you," Martinez suggested.

"Not here, we haven't time. I'll be okay. Come on, let's go," Tony insisted, picking up the saline bag and defiantly raising it above Gibbs once more.

No one argued because everyone knew he was right. This time, though, Ziva walked alongside Tony, just in case. Ten minutes later, they arrived at the helicopter landing site. It was waiting on a flat grassy bank by the river. The pilot jumped out and ran to offer assistance to the group when he saw their lights approaching.

Between them, they quickly loaded the injured agents onto the chopper. The pilot informed the agents that he only had space to carry the injured and the medics. So Ziva and McGee had no alternative but to stay behind.

"Where are you taking them?" McGee asked.

"We have orders to take Agent Gibbs straight to Bethesda," the pilot replied. McGee nodded, agreeing with the decision. Then Tony climbed aboard. As he sat there, he could hardly take his eyes off Gibbs, who lay in front of him, barely visible beneath the blanket which was pulled right up to his chin. Soon everyone on board was secured and the helicopter rose into the darkness.

Ziva and McGee stood back and protected their faces from the downdraft of the rotors as the helicopter ascended. Soon it has disappeared and they were left in silence on the bank of the river, the moonlight reflecting on its surface.

"He is going to be all right," McGee said, trying to convince himself.

Ziva nodded and rested her hand on McGee's shoulder. She wanted to believe that Gibbs would make it, but she had seen too many men with similar gunshot wounds and knew the odds were stacked against him. She decided against sharing this insight with her colleague, this once. They started to walk back to the cabin. It was still an active crime scene and until they were relieved, they had a job to do.

As they walked, McGee realised that he needed to call Abby and let her know what was happening. He knew she would be beside herself with worry. He took a deep breath and dialled the number. How was he going to tell her? The phone rang only once before being eagerly answered.

"McGee? What's going on?" Abby demanded, emotionally.

Ducky stood by her side, straining to hear McGee.

"The rescue helicopter just took off. They're on their way to Bethesda," Tim told her as calmly as he could.

"And Gibbs? How is he?" Abby asked hesitantly.

"His condition is serious, Abby. He's very weak, but the medics are great. They won't give up on him," McGee reassured her.

"Oh, McGee," Abby sobbed, her whole world slowly disintegrating. Ducky took the phone from her hand as she threatened to drop it.

"Timothy," Ducky said once he took the phone. "We'll make our way to Bethesda straight away. I need to know how serious it is, Timothy. Should I be calling Jackson?"

"Right now, I think that would be a good idea," McGee admitted with sadness.

Ducky understood the implications of McGee's admission. He thanked him and turned to a now very distressed Ms. Sciuto.

"Come on my dear," Ducky said compassionately. "Let's get to the hospital."

To be continued...

**_A/N - apologies for any mistakes with the medical info. Having no medical training, I'm winging it_**.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As the helicopter glided through the night sky, Tony rested his head back against the seat. He felt nauseous and exhausted. He watched through heavy eyes as both Chris and Jose did their utmost to keep his boss alive. Tony still couldn't believe that this was happening. He hoped that any minute now he would wake with a start, sit up in own bed and smile with relief when he realised that it was all just a horrible nightmare. Any minute now would be good. Just wake up, DiNozzo…..he wished.

On the ground, Ziva and McGee had made their way back to the cabin. Neither was looking forward to spending the night babysitting Commander Lewis' corpse, but they had little choice. Between that and waiting for news of their boss, they knew that it was going to be a long night. McGee lit a small fire in the hearth and they made themselves as comfortable as possible given the circumstances and settled in for an agonising wait.

Abby and Ducky were on the road, speeding in the direction of Bethesda Naval Hospital. Ducky drove as Abby was far too upset. There was little conversation between the two, each lost in their own fears for their friend and colleague. Before setting off, Ducky had made a brief phone call to Jackson Gibbs, Gibbs' elderly father, informing him of the unfortunate news. There was no way Jackson would be able to make the journey to Washington before morning, so Ducky promised to call him once he had an update. He thought of what the poor man must be feeling and quickly realised that he too must be experiencing very similar feelings. Over the years, Leroy Jethro Gibbs had become the surrogate son he never had. Their relationship had gotten off to a shaky start though. When Ducky started at NCIS, Gibbs was a closed book, an utterly unsociable creature. But Ducky saw through the tough outer shell, was patient and bit by bit Gibbs opened that book and allowed him a glimpse of a few of those pages. And from then on their relationship blossomed. In his own way, he loved the surly agent and couldn't imagine life without him.

Abby too was struggling with dismal thoughts. In her world, Gibbs would always be around for her. The very thought of him one day not being there was inconceivable. Tears streamed down her face and she inelegantly wiped them away with her the back of her hand. From her first day at NCIS, Gibbs had always treated her that bit extra special. There was no doubt that he had a soft spot for her, and she knew how to work that to her advantage when need be. He demanded a lot from his team but had huge faith in their abilities. He always pushed them and knew how to get the best from each and every one of them. He protected each as though they were his own flesh and blood. He was the glue that held them together. He had to be okay. There was just no other conceivable outcome.

Tony jerked awake suddenly as the helicopter bounced slightly as it touched down on the roof of Bethesda Naval Hospital. He felt a pang of guilt for having fallen asleep. His eyes fell immediately on his unconscious boss, who appeared to be hanging on. The door of the chopper slid open and Martinez was the first to jump out. There was already a group of medical personnel at the landing zone standing by to rush their patient inside. Martinez pulled the stretcher towards the door while Chris guided it through the opening. It was carefully manoeuvred onto a waiting gurney and quickly whisked away as Dr. Martinez recited a list of injuries and stats to attending doctors. Another medic helped Tony to disembark the helicopter and they followed to the Emergency Room.

Tony was ushered to a curtained-off treatment room while Gibbs had been taken elsewhere in the ER. Tony sat on a bed, feeling alone and distraught. He hadn't seen his boss since they whisked him away on the rooftop. He continually asked anyone that would listen for news on Gibbs but kept getting the same reply: no one knew but they would try and find out. A doctor eventually examined him and diagnosed a mild concussion. The laceration in his scalp was sutured and he was ordered to rest and told that he would be admitted overnight for observation. But Tony didn't care. He barely heard his words. He just needed to find out how his boss was. When at last he was left alone, Tony got to his feet, paused momentarily to allow the room to stop spinning and then wandered away from the ER on a mission to find his boss. He found a corridor lined with trauma rooms and peered in each, hoping to see him. There was no sign of him and he was beginning to panic. He eventually stopped a nurse as she passed by and asked her. She didn't know where his friend was, but taking pity on him, she checked with her colleagues. She returned quickly.

"Mr. Gibbs was taken straight to surgery," she told him, offering a flirtatious smile.

"Agent Gibbs. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Tony corrected her.

"Oh, sorry," she replied with a carefree shrug.

"So, how do I get to the OR?" Tony asked, swaying slightly and reaching to the wall for support.

"Second floor, you can take that elevator," the nurse replied. "Sir, are you sure you're okay?" she asked, noting the blood stain on his shirt collar.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. It's been one hell of a day," Tony smiled, straightening up once more and taking a deep breath. "Thanks."

With that, he left her standing there, still looking concerned, and he found the elevator. He rode to the second floor and followed the directional signs for the Operating Rooms. There was a seating area with some sofas lining the walls, a couple of coffee tables and a water dispenser in one corner. He sank onto one of the sofas and waited, praying that his boss would find the strength to pull through.

It wasn't long before Ducky and Abby arrived at the hospital. They raced into the ER and asked after their injured colleagues. They were informed that Agent Gibbs was in surgery and then directed to the curtained-off area where DiNozzo was supposed to be resting. The nurse was shocked to find that he wasn't where she had left him. It didn't take long for Ducky to figure out where Tony would be.

"Don't worry, my dear, I have a good idea of where I might find him," Ducky told her with some certainty.

Ducky guided Abby by the arm and they followed the same directional signs to the second floor and to the OR waiting area. Just as he thought, he found Tony sitting there, looking wan and shaken. Abby rushed over, leaned down and hugged him tightly.

"Tony!"

"Abby?" Tony said, surprised to see her.

Abby sat down beside him and he sank into her shoulder as she hugged him. Abby was the most genuinely affectionate creature on the planet as far as Tony was concerned and he had no doubt that her concern for him was heart-felt.

"Are you okay?" she eventually asked, eventually releasing him from her grasp.

"Me, sure, never better," he lied.

"And Gibbs?"

Tony sighed loudly and then fell silent. He couldn't look at her. His pained expression and tear-filled eyes met Ducky's, who stood in front of him. Ducky realised from his expression that Gibbs was in serious trouble. He had never seen Tony so upset. Ducky sat to Tony's left and put a comforting arm around him.

"You look dreadful, young man," Ducky said, patting the obviously shaken agent on the shoulder.

"You should see the other guy," Tony replied flippantly, trying to lighten the mood out of habit.

Abby's heart sank. Tony had completely avoided her question. That wasn't good. What had happened to Gibbs? She filled with dread and sensed that it was serious. His unspoken words told her so much but she wanted to hear the facts.

"Is it really that bad, Tony?"

Tony turned and looked at her, his tears threatening to spill over. He exhaled deliberately and nodded solemnly.

"Lewis shot him in the back," Tony told her, as he recalled the horror of the last few hours. "The bullet exited about here," he explained, indicating an area below his ribs. "He was conscious for a while. He was in so much pain and I…..I couldn't help him. I tried my best to stop the bleeding, but there was so much blood," Tony said, pausing to stifle a sob.

Abby took his trembling hands in hers and squeezed. His frightened gaze met hers.

"You did great, Tony," Abby told him kindly. "You got help and you got him here alive. There was nothing else you could have done."

Ducky echoed her sentiments.

"Gibbs is as strong as an ox. He has been through so much and has always come out on top," Ducky reminded him. "He's going to pull through, my boy. I have the utmost faith in Jethro. He has never let me down so far."

Tony turned to the aging medical examiner and sighed heavily.

"You didn't see him, Duck," he mumbled softly. "You didn't see him."

With that, silence fell. There was nothing else to say and nothing else they could do. His fate was out of their hands and now began a waiting game. All three of them waited together, united in their heartbreak and fears.

Minutes soon turned into hours and the agony of their wait was torture. Very little information filtered through to them, despite Ducky's best efforts to find out what was going on. At one point the silence in the waiting area was shattered when Abby's cell phone rang. It was McGee, hoping to find out how Gibbs was. He couldn't believe that he was still in surgery after so long. It had been over five hours since they lifted off from the river bank. He enquired after Tony and was relieved to hear that at least he was doing fine. He asked Abby to call him as soon as there was any news and she promised that she would.

As it turned out, they hadn't to wait much longer. A stern looking surgeon emerged from the sterile surrounding of the OR suite and approached the group with purpose. Tony was dozing and Abby elbowed him awake. Ducky got to his feet expectantly and tried to read the doctor's expression as he neared them.

"Family of Leroy Gibbs?"

"Yes," Ducky replied. "And it's Jethro."

"Oh, sorry, Jethro Gibbs," the doctor said, correcting himself.

Tony also got to his feet, albeit a little shakily. Abby rose ominously.

"Jethro sustained a very serious gunshot wound, as you are aware. He had lost a significant volume of blood before he got here, which put severe strain on his heart. He gave us a couple of scares in there, but we've managed to stabilise him. He's being transferred to the ICU as we speak," the doctor explained.

"So, he's okay?" Tony asked.

"It's a little early to say that with any degree of certainty. He's extremely weak, but the fact that he made it this far is very promising. As expected with such an injury, there was intestinal damage as well as a small liver laceration. A piece of a broken rib punctured his lung. However, my greatest concern is the spinal involvement. The bullet entered at an angle and impacted the vertebra before exiting the right side of his abdomen," he explained before being interrupted.

"Spinal involvement? What do you mean?" Abby asked, intelligent enough to know what spinal involvement meant, but hoping the doctor was inferring something less portentous.

"I mean right now there doesn't appear to be any response to pain stimulus below the injury site. We are hoping that Jethro is just suffering from spinal shock. However, the severity cannot be determined without running more comprehensive tests and we will have to wait for Jethro to regain consciousness before we can start those," he told her.

"Ducky? What does…..?" Abby said, her eyes darting from one person to the other as she grew more alarmed. "Will he walk again?"

"Spinal shock is usually temporary, but recovery can take days or it can take months, depending on the severity of the damage," Ducky explained.

Abby was gutted. While she realised that she should be grateful that her beloved Gibbs was alive, she feared for what was to come. Would this injury change Gibbs' life forever? She didn't even want to think about it. Thinking about it gave credence to the risk and there was no way Abby was going to accept anything other than a full recovery for Gibbs.

"Can we see him now?" she asked emotionally.

"I can let you visit for a minute or two but …" he was about to finish his sentence when he was distracted by Tony's sudden bolt towards the trash can.

Everyone's eyes followed him and they watched with concern as Tony promptly threw up into the trash can. Ducky rushed to Tony's side as the young agent straightened up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Ducky handed him his handkerchief.

"Is he all right?" the doctor asked Abby.

"He will be. He has a concussion and should be down in your ER. If he could see Gibbs for a couple of minutes, I think I'd be able to convince him to go back," Abby explained.

"Okay. I'll send someone to get you as soon as he's been settled into the ICU," the doctor told her.

"Thank you, Doctor," Abby said, watching as the doctor turned and disappeared back through the door from where he came.

Ducky guided Tony back to a seat and Abby got him some water from the cooler. They sat consoling Tony and discussing Gibbs' shocking diagnosis until a nurse approached them and led them to the ICU.

TBC

A/N - thanks to you all for the reviews. As warned this is angst-central at the moment with more to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N - can't thank you all enough for your reviews. I tried to respond to you all but one or two of you I couldn't. Just know I'm appreciative!_**

Chapter 6

Tony, Ducky and Abby entered Gibbs' room together. Gibbs was lying there, his eyes closed, his breathing assisted by a ventilator. Machines and monitors seemed to entomb him where he lay. They stood silently, hardly able to believe the sight of the mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs lying so still and looking so vulnerable. They each took time to come to terms with what was now a sad, shocking reality.

Being a medical professional, Ducky was the first to understand and accept what was happening. Ever the pragmatist, he was grateful that his friend was still alive. He approached Gibbs' bedside and stood close to his head. He placed a tender hand on his friend's shoulder and spoke touchingly.

"You've managed to get yourself into quite a bit of strife this time, haven't you, Jethro?" he began. "But you're in the hospital now and the doctors say that you're going to be fine, thanks to Anthony, I might add."

"You're wrong," Tony interrupted suddenly.

"Sorry?" Ducky asked, confused by his statement.

"It's my fault he's in here in the first place. I messed up out there. I thought the room was clear….I should've checked the pantry. The son-of-a-bitch was in the pantry," Tony said, getting more upset as he confessed his failings.

Abby looked at him in horror, mouth agape in disbelief, as he poured his heart out. She could hardly believe her ears.

"It should be me lying there," he continued. "It all happened so fast. I never even saw him until it was too late. Gibbs pushed me out of the way. I returned fire and went after Lewis," Tony explained through tear-filled eyes. "But Gibbs never got up. I..…it shouldn't….," Tony struggled to contain his emotions.

"You mean to say that if you did your job properly Gibbs wouldn't be facing the rest of his life in a wheelchair?" Abby snapped crossly. "How could you be so….so….?"

She turned to him and pounded him on the chest with clenched fists, her rage overflowing. Tony swallowed hard, his head hung in shame. He didn't even try to defend himself from the blows. He felt it was what he deserved. Ducky thought otherwise and interjected, quickly pulling Abby away from him.

"Abby, stop it right now! This is neither the time nor the place," Ducky reminded her. "We need to be here for Jethro. He's going to need us now more than ever. Laying blame will not change anything. Anthony, look at me! You mustn't blame yourself. Jethro would not be happy if he knew you were torturing yourself like this. I think it's time you returned to the Emergency Room and got some rest. You're exhausted."

Tony nodded meekly. He approached Gibbs' bed and rested his hand on his boss's.

"I'm sorry, Boss," he said softly before turning and leaving the room, acutely aware of Abby's fiery glare.

Ducky was concerned for the young agent and decided it best to accompany him and to make sure he returned to the ER. Abby took a plastic chair and placed it closer to Gibbs' bedside. She sat down, leaned over and laid her head on Gibbs' arm.

"You've got to get better, Gibbs, do you hear me? I need you," she pleaded. "We all need you."

Meanwhile, Ziva and McGee were spending a cold and uncomfortable night at Commander Lewis' cabin. They waited anxiously for their sat phone to ring. When it did, McGee grabbed it immediately and answered it.

"Hello?"

"McGee, it's me."

"Hi Abby, what's the news?" McGee asked anxiously.

"Gibbs is in recovery. There may be some complications, though," Abby told him.

"Complications? What kind of complications?"

"They say the bullet impacted his spine and they don't know for sure if there'll be any lasting damage as a result," Abby explained, managing to keep control of her emotions. McGee noticed a difference in her demeanour.

"Oh, that's awful," he replied. "Are you okay, Abs? You sound a little strange."

"Strange? Mad more like it. Did you know this was Tony's fault? Did he tell you that?" Abby asked, releasing her pent-up anger.

"What? No. He didn't really say much at all. He was unconscious when we found him. When he came around, he was so worried about Gibbs," McGee told her.

"Sure he was. Worried for his career more like it," Abby snapped.

"Abby, you know Tony's not like that. He'd give his life for Gibbs if he had to," McGee told her.

"That's what I thought too, McGee," Abby replied. "But now I realise that he's just a screw-up."

McGee didn't know what to say. He had never heard Abby say such harsh things about any of her friends before. He hoped that as the shock wore off she would come around and realise that Tony wasn't to blame.

"Is he okay?"

"Who? Tony?" Abby asked.

"Yeah, Abs. Tony!"

"Ducky took him back down to the ER. He seems fine," Abby told him.

"Good. We're stuck here for the rest of the night, but as soon as we can we'll get to the hospital. Just hang in there, okay?" McGee urged.

"I will. I'm staying right here. I'll call you if there's any change," Abby promised.

Ducky stayed with Tony and ensured that he was settled into a room for the rest of the night. However, despite his exhaustion, Tony struggled to find a restful sleep. For most of the night he battled his inner demons. He replayed the events of the cabin over and over in his mind. Why hadn't he checked the darned pantry? If he had, none of this would have happened. No matter what way he looked at it, this was his fault. Gibbs' career, his life as he knows it, could be over all because of a stupid, unforgivable lapse in concentration.

Ducky sat with Tony for several hours and dozed occasionally on the chair nearby. He watched as Tony slept an obviously disturbed sleep. Changes in his breathing, occasional shudders and mutterings confirmed Ducky's suspicions. His heart went out to the young agent. He knew that Tony looked up to Gibbs. He had been more of a father to Tony than his own father had. He also knew that there is no way that Tony would deliberately put Gibbs in harm's way. This meant that no matter what the eventual outcome was, Tony would never forgive himself for what had happened. From what he could see, the best outcome for all concerned would be for Gibbs to make a full recovery. Anything less would shatter more than one life.

The next morning the surgeon checked on Gibbs on his rounds. Abby woke with a start to find the doctor, accompanied by some junior doctors, standing at the foot of Gibbs' bed reading from his chart.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, smiling at the attractive Goth.

"That's okay," Abby replied. "I was just resting. How's he doing?"

"He's stabilised. His SATS have improved. He's doing better than I could have hoped," the doctor replied.

"That's good, right?" Abby said sounding unsure.

"Yes, it's very encouraging," the surgeon replied. He then continued to explain to his junior doctors how Gibbs was injured and details of his surgery and prognosis. Abby remained silent throughout, listening for any further information she might learn. As the team of doctors were about to leave, she spoke up.

"So, when will he wake up? I really need to see those baby blues right about now."

"We'll need to keep him sedated for probably another 24 hours to give his body a chance to heal. We'll see how he's doing tonight and review things from there," he told her.

"Thank you," Abby said as the doctor exited the room.

She turned to Gibbs and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Do you hear that, Gibbs? The doctor says you're doing really well. You're going to be fine," she told him, trying to sound super confident.

Downstairs, Tony woke and smiled when he heard Ducky snoring in the chair across the room. He sat up, rubbed his brow and swung his legs out of the bed. As he reached for his clothes, Ducky woke.

"What….? Where do you think you're going?" Ducky asked theatrically.

"Do you really have to ask, Duck?" Tony replied.

"I suppose not. How are you feeling this morning?" Ducky enquired.

"Much better," Tony replied. He sounded almost convincing. "Any word on Gibbs?"

"Not since during the night. He was stable," Ducky replied.

Tony pulled on his pants before removing the hospital gown.

"You should probably wait until the doctor says you can go," Ducky advised.

"I'm only going upstairs," Tony pointed out as he buttoned his shirt. He raised his head and looked seriously at Ducky. "Do you think Abby will ever forgive me?" he asked dolefully.

"Of course she will," Ducky replied. "She was just emotional last night. It was difficult for us all seeing Jethro like that. She and Jethro are very close as you know. She was trying to make sense of it all and just needed someone to blame."

Tony sighed and nodded. Before he had a chance to say anything else, a cell phone started to ring. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out two phones, his own phone and Gibbs' phone. He looked at Ducky.

"It's Gibbs' phone."

"Answer it," Ducky advised, so he did.

"Hello. Agent Gibbs' phone. Agent DiNozzo speaking."

"Agent DiNozzo? Is Gibbs there?" the female voice asked. She sounded a little annoyed.

"Who's calling?" Tony asked cautiously.

"This is Dr. Samantha Ryan. Eh, Agent Gibbs and I had a breakfast meeting this morning," she told him, making it sound like it was a business arrangement, but Tony knew better. He and the team had suspected that Gibbs and Dr. Ryan had a "thing".

"Dr. Ryan, I'm sorry to have to tell you this but I'm at Bethesda Hospital. Gibbs was shot yesterday," he told her solemnly.

"What? Oh my God….is he okay?" she asked, suddenly feeling ill.

"He's in the ICU," Tony told her, glancing over at Ducky for guidance on how much to tell her. Ducky nodded to him, acknowledging that he had little option but to tell Dr. Ryan the full gravity of the situation.

"The ICU? Okay….I'll be right there," she said, doing her utmost to remain calm. She hung up immediately.

"She's coming over," Tony said, turning to Ducky once the call ended. "I think the boss really likes her."

"So do I, Anthony," Ducky said, patting him on the back as they left the room and headed towards the ICU.

Tony got lost in his thoughts as they walked. Somehow, he didn't believe that Abby would forgive him as easily as Ducky had predicted. He was right. As he and Ducky entered the ICU room, Abby turned and greeted Ducky and then glared menacingly at Tony before rudely turning her back on him without saying a word. Ducky was surprised by her uncharacteristic reaction, which was completely contrary to the Abby they knew and loved. She wasn't usually one to hold a grudge. Tony could sense her hatred and it pierced his heart. He swallowed his pride, said nothing and just looked over at his boss. His pallor had improved from when he had last laid eyes on him, but he was still unconscious. Ducky was the one to break the awkward silence.

"He looks better," he commented.

"He looked a lot better before he took off with Tony yesterday," Abby retorted resentfully.

"I know he did, my dear. But what happened, happened," Ducky said, taking Abby by the shoulders, trying to make her see some sense. "Much as I wish we could, we cannot go back and change it. So, Abigail, it's time that you accepted it and stopped blaming Anthony. Jethro was injured in the line of duty, chasing a murderer, doing his job. That's all there is to it," Ducky reminded her.

Abby looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes. Deep down she knew he was right. She just wanted to blame someone. She was angry with the world. She couldn't blame Gibbs because he was so ill, so the only person left to blame was Tony. This should never have happened. Feeling ashamed of her behaviour, she turned around to apologise to Tony, but he was gone.

"Where did he go?" she asked Ducky.

"I don't know, my dear. I didn't notice him leave," Ducky replied, sounding surprised.

She walked to the door and looked up and down the hallway but there was no sign of Tony. She felt even worse now. She had been awfully hard on him. She could only imagine how he must be feeling. She scolded herself. There was no excuse for the way she behaved. Tony was in shock and trying to deal with a traumatic experience and she realised that her accusations were only intensifying the trauma.

"He's not there," Abby said, turning back to Ducky.

"Don't worry, Abby. Tony's having a hard time with this. I'll see if I can find him," Ducky promised. "Why don't you go and get yourself some breakfast? Jethro will be fine until you get back."

Abby nodded. She did feel a little hungry and could definitely do with a bathroom break, she realised. Gibbs would forgive her for leaving him for twenty minutes.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N - you guys are the best! Instead of individual replies to your reviews, I thought I'd give you another chapter instead. To all of you who did review, please know that I am grateful. I'm sensing that not many of you like Dr. Ryan. In case you haven't guessed, I like her character, although I'm not sure if I trust her. Wonder if we'll see her in Season 10?_**

Chapter 7

Ducky returned downstairs to Tony's hospital room, expecting to find him there. He checked the room and was surprised to find it empty. He then enquired at the nurse's desk if they knew of Tony's whereabouts.

"Tony?" a nurse said, smiling to herself, not needing to look up the patient details. "I mean Agent DiNozzo. He checked himself out. You just missed him."

Ducky thanked the young nurse and immediately took out his cell phone. He couldn't help but worry about Tony. He tried to call him but his call went straight to voice mail. He left a message asking him to call back and hoped that he would, but suspected that the young man just wanted to be left alone. Ducky realised that Tony was very like Gibbs in that respect. When he was hurting or struggling to deal with something, he would retreat into himself, try and cut himself off from the world until he had dealt with it in his own way. He knew all too well how Jethro dealt with trauma-it usually involved a bottle of bourbon and sandpaper-but he wasn't sure exactly how Tony would handle it. He would have to make sure that there was someone there if and when Tony needed them.

Tony, meanwhile, had caught a cab and was on his way home. Emotionally, he was barely managing to hold it together. He wished and prayed that this whole saga was just a nightmare and that he would wake up soon and Gibbs would be fine. He stared out the window and watched as people went about their everyday lives. He wondered how they could go on, oblivious and unaffected by the depth of what had happened. Didn't they know what Gibbs had sacrificed in the line of duty to protect his country? He didn't do it for himself, he did it for them. Inside he grew angry. He convinced himself that his anger was based on their obvious lack of appreciation for the risks they, as agents, took to protect these people, but really he was just angry with himself, angry with his failure. Slowly, it was eating him up.

When the cab arrived at his address, he paid the driver and got out wearily. He then climbed the stairs to his apartment. He fumbled with his keys and finally managed to unlock the door to his apartment. He dragged his exhausted body in and closed the door behind him, grateful to be able to shut out the rest of the world. He stood with his back against the closed door for a moment and tried to control his emotions before finally surrendering to the feelings that he had been bottling up. He broke down and cried like a child, eventually sliding down the door onto the floor, utterly distraught. As far as he was concerned, he was solely responsible for ruining Gibbs' life. The realisation that Gibbs could possibly spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair because of him was crushing. He couldn't handle that and neither could Gibbs. Tony realised that there was no way that he would be able to face his mentor ever again.

That hurt him more. Gibbs held such an important place in Tony's life. He was more than just his boss. He was his friend, his family. Gibbs would never forgive him.

Back at the hospital, Abby was on her way back to Gibbs' room, having eaten breakfast and freshened up briefly in the ladies room, when she spotted a familiar face standing at the nurse's station. It was Dr. Samantha Ryan. She looked upset and flustered by whatever the nurse was telling her. Abby hurried over to see if she could help.

"Dr. Ryan? What are you doing here?" Abby asked, surprised to see her. She suddenly felt guilty for forgetting to call her to tell her about Gibbs and wondered how she knew.

"I heard about Gibbs and I wanted to see him but this…..this person won't let me see him because I'm not family," she explained crossly.

"Oh, that's okay. Technically, I'm not his blood either but we're all Gibbs' family," Abby said, loud enough for the benefit of the nurse. "Gibbs would want you here. It's fine, she is family."

The nurse shrugged and relented without a fight.

"Fine but will you please try and stick to the two visitors at a time rule?" the nurse said as the two ladies turned and walked away.

They both agreed and thanked the nurse before Abby guided Dr. Ryan to Gibbs' room. Dr. Ryan hesitated at the entrance to the room. She could see Gibbs in the bed through the glass window and was slightly taken aback when she saw him lying there, partially obscured by the ventilator and monitors. It took a moment for the seriousness of the situation to sink in. Gibbs really was fighting for his life. It didn't take a genius to figure that out.

"It's okay. Come on in," Abby said sweetly, realising how much of a shock this must be for Dr. Ryan. "I've been talking to him, reminding him of how much we need him. It's working, he's doing better."

Ryan slowly approached the bed and placed her hand on the back of Gibbs' hand. He looked very peaceful, she noted.

"We were supposed to have breakfast this morning, you know? When he didn't arrive, I just thought I'd been stood up. It wouldn't be the first time our plans were blown out of the water by his work," she told Abby. "It never even crossed my mind that something like this could have happened. Is he going to be okay?"

"Of course he is," Abby replied, oozing positivity. "He's Gibbs, he's always okay. The doctor said he's already showing signs of improvement."

"How did this happen?" Ryan asked, her eyes lingering on Gibbs' pale features.

Abby told her what she knew about the case and Dr. Ryan listened attentively. Her facial expression changed when Abby mentioned the possibility of spinal damage. She realised that psychologically, such a diagnosis could be shattering for such an active and independent man like Gibbs. Her own emotions were in turmoil. Their relationship was still in the infant stages. She wasn't sure if she loved Gibbs. She knew she cared very deeply for him, but she was not one to put her feelings out there to get trampled on. They had been spending more time together and they were enjoying each other's company. Slowly, she was letting him into her closeted life. She had always been very protective of her son and still hadn't introduced him to Gibbs, waiting to find the right time. Although recently she had told her son about the new man in her life and was planning to arrange a proper introduction.

Abby interrupted her thoughts.

"How about I give you two some time alone?" she said, walking around to the head of the bed and kissing Gibbs on the forehead. She looked up and smiled at Dr. Ryan, who returned the smile and thanked her.

Dr. Ryan pulled a chair from near the wall closer to the bed and sat down. She took Gibbs' hand in hers.

"Hey, Gibbs. It's me. There are easier ways to get out of having breakfast with me, you know?" she began with a half laugh. "Abby tells me that you're doing much better. You need to get well, do you hear me? I've kinda got used to having you around. I even told Parker about you and he's asking to meet you. I said I'd cook dinner and you could come over. I'm not a bad cook when I make an effort. I do a mean lasagne. He's looking forward to it, so you can't let him down, okay?" she said, reaching over and tenderly stroking his cheek.

She made herself comfortable and settled in. She stayed there for some time, holding his hand and talking to him. She was startled when someone at the door cleared their throat to get her attention. She turned towards the door. A white-haired, elderly gentleman stood in the doorway. He had a red, round face with watery grey eyes.

"He looks pretty sick," he said, shuffling into the room.

"He is," she replied, curious as to the identity of this man.

"Are you his lady friend?" he asked bluntly.

Dr. Ryan wasn't quite sure how to answer that. She considered the question for a moment before replying, "I suppose I am." The old gent smiled, came over to her and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm Jackson Gibbs, Leroy's father. It's nice to meet you."

"You too. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances," Dr. Ryan said, as he released her from his embrace. "I'm Dr. Samantha Ryan."

"Ah, a doctor," Jackson said, suitably impressed. "Leroy never mentioned you. Do you work here?"

"Oh, no, I'm not a medical doctor. I'm a psychologist," she explained.

"Oh. So, how is my boy?" Jackson asked, staring at the frail body of his son.

"I only know what Ms. Sciuto told me. He was shot in the back and suffered internal injuries. He's sedated and they hope to wake him in the next 24 hours," she told him.

"Is he paralyzed?" Jackson asked straight out.

"What?" she asked, surprised by his bluntness.

"You said he was shot in the back. Is he paralyzed?"

"There's a chance from what I understand. They won't know for sure until they do some tests when he's awake," Dr. Ryan explained.

"Oh dear God," Jack replied, reaching for the end of the bed for support. Dr. Ryan quickly pushed her chair in his direction and he sank onto it gratefully. She poured him some water from the jug on the small table close by. "I always feared something like this would happen someday."

"Jethro's strong. He can get through this," she reassured him.

"I know he is. Always has been. I just worry how much more tragedy he can handle," Jack said solemnly.

Samantha wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that. She knew Gibbs had been married and he had mentioned that he had a daughter who died. She presumed that was what he meant.

"I should go. I'll check back later and see how he's doing," Samantha said as she grabbed her handbag and coat. "It was nice meeting you."

"You don't have to leave because of me," Jack told her.

"Oh, it's not that. I have to be somewhere," she said, smiling kindly at him.

Jackson returned her smile and stood to move the chair closer to his son. He placed his hand on his son's forehead and brushed a sliver of hair from his brow. He offered a silent prayer that his son would recover from his injuries.

While Dr. Ryan was visiting with Gibbs, Abby had taken a walk. She headed downstairs and outside for some air. She was strolling around the parking lot when she spotted two familiar faces in the distance. It was Ziva and McGee, looking tired and dishevelled. She ran towards them and hugged them both.

"You made it!" she exclaimed with zeal.

"We drove straight here. Vance assigned another team, so we left as soon as they arrived at the cabin. How's Gibbs doing?" McGee asked.

"He's doing better. The doctor was with him earlier and said he's doing better than they could have hoped. They're keeping him sedated for another while, but he's going to be fine," she told them.

"Thank God," McGee said, sounding relieved. "For a while out there, I thought he wasn't going to make it. I've never been so scared in all my life."

"I know what you mean. But this is Gibbs and if anyone can pull through, it's him, right?" Abby enthused, with a brilliant smile.

"Absolutely," McGee replied.

"Come on, I'll show you where he is," Abby said, guiding them into the hospital entrance.

When they got there, Abby was surprised to see Gibbs' father by his side.

"Jack! You made it," she said sounding delighted, as she entered the room.

"Abby, it's so good to see you," Jack said, embracing the young woman. "Ziva, Tim," he said acknowledging the other two agents.

"He looks better than when we last saw him," Ziva commented, looking over at her boss.

"He is better," Abby told her. "It was a close thing, though. I can't believe we came so close to losing him."

"I know, Abs, but we didn't," McGee reminded her as he put an arm around her shoulder.

"I know," she replied, "and we won't."

Abby smiled and then let her eyes rest on Gibbs. It was rare that she ever saw Gibbs at rest. His face was relaxed, his frown lines disappeared, which made him look younger, she realised.

"Where's Tony? I thought he'd be here," McGee asked.

"He was here. Ducky went to find him and said that he checked himself out. It's a long story. Let's just say I wasn't very Christian towards him," Abby admitted shamefully.

Jackson, Ziva and McGee exchanged curious glances but didn't ask for elaboration.

"Abby, you look exhausted. Why don't you go home and get some rest. Ziva and I will stay here with Gibbs until you get back," McGee suggested.

"Oh, that's okay, McGee. I'd rather stay," Abby replied.

"I know that, Abby, but Gibbs would rather you were here when he wakes up and that won't be for a while yet, right? He won't want you looking tired and exhausted when he sees you. He'll only worry then," McGee said trying to reason with her.

"You should all go. It's been a long night for you all. I'll stay with him until you get back," Jackson promised.

The three agents considered what Jackson was saying and everyone agreed that it was best for Abby to get some rest and for Ziva and McGee to get cleaned up after their night at the cabin. They bumped into Ducky as they were leaving and informed him that Jackson was sitting with Gibbs and that they were all going home for a while.

As Abby left the hospital, she felt very guilty for how she had treated Tony. She considered calling around to his apartment but she guessed she wouldn't be welcome. She decided it prudent to give him some space. She thought about calling him but suspected that he wouldn't answer so instead she went straight home, feeling guilty and ashamed. She was going to have some making up to do to get Tony to forgive her.

TBC

**_A/N - May not get a chance to update this weekend but will try by Sunday at the latest._**


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N - as promised, here's the next instalment. Again, thanks so much for your reviews and comments. **_

Chapter 8

Tony lay on his sofa, a half-drunk bottle of bourbon on the floor beside him. He stared at the ceiling and hoped that the liquor would numb his pain, make him forget, if even for a short while. It usually worked for his boss, so he hoped it would work for him. He had tried to close his eyes and sleep a little, but every time he did, all he saw were pictures of Gibbs lying on the cabin floor, bleeding out. He hadn't been able to eat a thing since he got home, an unending feeling of nausea quelling his usually boundless appetite. He constantly replayed different scenarios over in his mind, dark disturbing scenarios that left him even more upset, warranting another swig of liquor.

He imagined what life would be like if Gibbs didn't make it. How could he ever face his colleagues again if Gibbs died? He wouldn't even be able to go to the funeral, he thought. However nightmarish Gibbs' death was, it hardly compared to the consequence of Gibbs surviving and confined to a wheelchair. He wasn't sure which would be worse. He knew Gibbs would struggle if sentenced to life with such a devastating injury. There was no way he would want anything to do with Tony once he discovered that it was his fault. Little by little Tony started to believe that life as he knew it was over. He cursed at how a split second could devastate so many lives. He felt lost. He wasn't sure where he could go or what he should do. He took another mouthful from the bottle, hoping to find the answer.

It crossed his mind that he should probably resign from NCIS. He would no doubt get sanctioned or fired after the debacle in the cabin, so why prolong the agony. The rest of his team would never trust him again. Through the misguided clarity of the alcohol, he made the decision that he would resign the next morning.

Several hours passed. Back at the hospital, the doctor was checking in on Gibbs again and, happy that he had made a sufficient improvement, he made the decision to hold off on the sedation. Jackson had hardly left his son's side at all. He was dozing on the chair when the sound of someone entering the room disturbed him. It was Abby. She told him that she had slept a little and changed her clothes but couldn't bear to stay away. She gave Jackson a quick hug before taking up station beside him.

A short while later one of the staff nurses entered the room and asked Abby and Jackson to leave the room for a few minutes while she looked after Gibbs. Abby observed through the glass as she administered some medication via the IV and then skilfully removed the breathing tube from his throat. She gently wiped around Gibbs´ mouth and chin before fitting a nasal cannula. Eventually she emerged, smiled kindly and told them that they could return and sit with him. Abby didn't need to be told twice.

Another couple of hours passed during which time Gibbs received a brief visit from Director Vance. To Abby's surprise he actually seemed to be genuinely concerned for Gibbs. She had always assumed that there was no love lost between the two men, but Vance was verging on emotional upon seeing Gibbs so ill.

It was evening when Ducky returned to check on his friend. He felt a little more positive when he saw that Gibbs was off the ventilator and breathing on his own. When Abby explained that the doctors were now holding off the sedation, he smiled. He hoped his friend would wake soon, but in the back of his mind was the fear of how he would take the news of his injury.

Jackson looked exhausted and Ducky noticed with concern. He had not left his son's side in almost 12 hours. Ducky tried to convince Jack to get some rest, but there was no convincing him. He insisted he was staying at Jethro's side until he was conscious and aware that he was there. And that's what he did.

Ducky was the first to notice the signs of Gibbs' impending return to consciousness.

"Look!"

Jackson stood to look more closely at his son. Abby quickly approached the bed in anticipation. She could see Gibbs' eyelids fluttering. She reached out and took his hand. She almost burst with excitement when Gibbs gave her hand a feeble but noticeable squeeze.

"Gibbs?" she said with expectation.

Gibbs continued to battle towards consciousness. The closer he got, the clearer the voices became. Heavy eyelids offered one final obstacle in his battle. Soon, the glaring light broke through and he had made it. Initially, he found it difficult to focus his eyes, but after a couple of minutes, the world began to look close to normal again. Abby floated above him like a gothic vision. She was crying and nervously chattering. He wasn't quite sure why. Ducky was smiling on the other side of the bed, talking incessantly as usual. Gibbs hadn't a clue what he was talking about. There was someone else in the room, but he couldn't identify him because of where he was positioned.

Slowly Gibbs started to realise where he was, the glaring light, the sterile smell, the IV line in his arm. He tried to remember how he got there but couldn't. It was obvious to him that he must have suffered some injury but was surprised not to be in any pain. He smiled inwardly, presuming he owed his comfort to pain medication. His only discomfort was the dryness of his throat.

"What happened?" he croaked hoarsely.

"You were shot, Jethro," Ducky told him. "Do you remember anything?"

Gibbs tried to shake his head, then realised that he was wearing a neck collar.

"You went up to a cabin in Shenandoah with Anthony. Commander Lewis, do you remember? He shot you," Ducky explained.

Gibbs slowly digested the information he was getting, but it still wasn't ringing any bells.

"Tony?" he asked, a look of worry spreading across his brow.

"Oh, Anthony is fine. He's gone home to get some rest," Ducky told him. Gibbs nodded. At least that was good news. Tony was okay.

"Look who is here," Ducky said, turning to his left.

With that, Jackson stepped into his line of vision.

"Dad?

"Hello, Son."

"Must be bad if they called you," Gibbs said, with a faint smile.

"You had them worried for a while," Jackson told him. "But I knew you would be fine."

"Are you in any pain, Jethro?" Ducky asked curiously, hoping the answer was yes.

"Nope," Gibbs replied, sounding glad.

Ducky cast a worried glance towards Abby. Abby bit her lip, not wanting to break down in front of Gibbs. Despite his weakened state, their look didn't go unnoticed.

"What is it?" he asked, sensing their fear.

Another subtle exchange was shared between two of his three visitors. What were they keeping from him? He turned towards Ducky and looked into his face. He could see something unfamiliar in his old friend's face. Was it sadness? He started to get a sinking feeling that something was wrong. The first thing that entered his head was his team. Had something happened to one of them?

"Tell me, Duck. Who?"

"What? Oh…no, Jethro, your team is fine," Ducky reassured him, knowing the man all too well. "But there is something you should know. When you were shot, the bullet hit you in the back, Jethro," Ducky paused, letting his words sink in. "You underwent surgery to repair internal injuries, but there may be some complications."

Gibbs knew what was coming. Once he heard that he had been shot in the back, he knew it was bad. He just had to hear it to believe it.

"You've suffered spinal shock. They can't be sure how severe until they run a series of tests," Ducky told him, his hand resting on his friend's shoulder.

The look on Gibbs' face changed from curiosity to horror. A tear overflowed and trailed down Abby's cheek as she watched Gibbs try to absorb the devastating news.

"So …. I'm paralysed?" he asked in disbelief, his pleading eyes meeting Ducky's.

"I'm so sorry, Jethro. I wish I could answer that, but I just don't know. The doctor said that there is severe swelling around the injury site. It should be only temporary, but it's hard to say with any degree of certainty," Ducky explained as sensitively as he could.

Abby reached for Gibbs' hand and held it tightly. She wanted more than anything for him to know that he wasn't alone. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She had never seen him scared before. It broke her heart to see him like this. He slowly turned his eyes away from Ducky and looked at Abby.

"It's okay, Abs," Gibbs said, putting up a brave front and squeezing her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Gibbs," she sobbed, putting her head on his chest.

"Sshh," he said, stroking her hair and consoling the young woman.

Ducky could see that Jethro was already struggling to stay awake. The sedatives would still be in his system. It was time to intervene.

"Abigail, come on. Jethro needs to rest. Why don't we all go and get some tea?" Ducky suggested, coaxing her from his arms. "Your body needs sleep to heal, Jethro. Don't fight it."

Abby stood up slowly and wiped her eyes. She leaned down and kissed Gibbs once more on the forehead.

"You rest, Gibbs. Heal, okay?" she said, summoning a smile.

Gibbs hadn't the strength to fight it. He had never felt so weak in his life. The news that he had just received was overwhelming. His thoughts swirled in a cloud of confusion. Nothing made sense. His mind drifted. He never even heard them leave. He slipped back into the comfort of a medically induced sleep.

Over a cup of tea in the cafeteria, Ducky managed to convince Jackson Gibbs to go home and get some rest. It was late evening and he explained that it was unlikely that Jethro would awaken again until morning. Ducky gave him a spare set of house keys that Jethro had given him in case of emergency. Ducky drove him to Jethro's house and ensured that he had everything he required. He promised to pick him up the next morning to take him to visit his son. Abby eventually went home later that night when McGee and Ziva arrived to take over sitting with Gibbs.

It was several hours later before Gibbs woke again. He was alone. Once more, disorientation greeted him and it took a while for him to remember where he was and why he was there. Slowly his conversation with Ducky came back to him regarding his injury. He tried to look down at his toes as he tried to wiggle them, but because he was lying flat on his back and with the neck brace, he couldn't see if they were moving. He attempted to raise his head and was surprised at how difficult and painful a task that was.

That was when Ziva returned to the room with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

"Gibbs, what are you doing?" she asked, surprised to see him trying to sit up. "The doctor said you need to lie flat to give your injury a chance to heal."

Gibbs lay back and looked up at the ceiling, feeling weak and helpless.

"It wasn't a bad dream then," he sighed despondently.

Ziva placed her hand on his and leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. She was never one to show affection, but she loved her boss. Seeing him hurting was difficult for her. She felt just as helpless as he did.

"I'm so sorry," she said awkwardly.

She didn't try to fill the silence with any further words of consolation. She knew Gibbs well enough to know that he would not appreciate them or want them. He was a realist. Sugar-coating the truth just didn't fly in his world. He had dealt with his fair share of tragedies before, and he could deal with this, she hoped.

Gibbs had been so good to her since she left Israel and her father and chose to stay in the US with NCIS. He had gone out of his way to ensure that she never felt alone, yet he never interfered with her life or her choices. She wondered sometimes if her feelings for him were entirely plutonic or something more. There were times when she found herself looking at him, admiring him, almost longing for him. But even though she harboured these sometimes inappropriate feelings for him, she knew that he didn't feel the same way. He would never engage in a relationship with an agent under his supervision. It just wasn't how Leroy Jethro Gibbs conducted himself.

"That smells good," Gibbs piped up, eventually breaking the silence.

"What? Oh, the coffee? It's actually not very good at all. Vending machine coffee," Ziva told him. "Yuck."

"Really? I must be suffering withdrawal if vending machine coffee smells good," he said, cracking a weak smile.

"You must be," Ziva laughed.

"Did Ducky and Abby go home?" Gibbs asked, a little breathlessly.

"Yes, Ducky took your father home. Abby stayed with you all night. Needless to say, she didn't want to leave. You know Abby," Ziva said with a grin.

"Sure do. And DiNozzo?" he asked, thinking it odd that he still hadn't been to see him.

"Eh, Tony? He is at home also," Ziva replied, stammering slightly. "The doctors told him to rest."

"He's okay then? It's just, I haven't seen him and I thought…."

"No! He's fine, honestly. Just a little tired. Ducky made him go home and rest," Ziva told him.

McGee entered the room and was surprised to hear Ziva and Gibbs chatting.

"Boss! You're awake!"

"Well, yeah, McGee," Gibbs replied, trying to sound upbeat.

"You look much better than you did last night," McGee told him. "I mean you….., you know what I mean, right?" McGee stuttered nervously.

"Relax, McGee," Gibbs said to the young agent. "You did good out there, I hear. I owe you."

"Me? No, Boss, you don't owe me anything," McGee said, sounding embarrassed.

"I do. You, Ziva, DiNozzo, you saved my life," Gibbs said with heart-felt sentiment. "Whatever happens, I'm grateful."

Ziva and McGee didn't know what to say. They had never heard Gibbs sound so human before. They found his sentimentality disconcerting. They didn't know how to react. They each smiled awkwardly until finally Gibbs broke the silence.

"Okay, get outta here you two. Whatever they're giving me is wiping me out. I'm supposed to be resting anyway, so go on. Get!"

Ziva and McGee smiled and bid Gibbs goodbye. They left the hospital at dawn with McGee driving. He had planned to drop Ziva straight home but as they drove, she asked to go and check on Tony. So McGee dropped her outside Tony's apartment building.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" McGee asked.

"No, McGee. You go home and get some sleep. I'll call you later," Ziva promised.

McGee drove away as Ziva entered the apartment block. She climbed the stairs to the second floor and arrived at apartment 2D, Tony's apartment. She knocked on the door and waited for a reply. There was no answer. She knocked louder the second time.

"Tony! It's me. Are you in there?" she called.

There was silence. She listened at the door. It was now early morning, but she was sure she could hear movement inside. She rang his cell phone and could hear it ringing inside.

"Tony, I know you're in there. Open the door," she insisted.

Eventually, the door opened a crack and two bleary eyes peered out.

"What do you want?" Tony asked impatiently.

"I just wanted to check that you were okay," Ziva replied.

"Well I am, so you can leave."

"You don't look fine, Tony," Ziva said with concern, smelling the booze. "So step back and let me in."

Tony didn't respond. He wasn't in the mood for an argument. He just turned his back on her and walked away unsteadily from the door back into his apartment. Ziva pushed the door open and followed him in. Tony walked past the sofa, picked up the bottle of booze and continued into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. Ziva could see Tony wasn't in the mood to be sociable, so she remained in the living room and waited for a while. At least he was okay, sort of. She was hungry and presumed that he hadn't eaten for a while. She went to the kitchen and began to make some coffee and sandwiches. She could see that her partner was suffering. She wanted to do something to help him. After a half hour there was still no sign of Tony re- emerging from his room, so she knocked on his door before letting herself in.

She found Tony lying on his side on the bed. She noticed he was still wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night at the cabin. He reeked of sweat and liquor. His face was tear-stained with dark circles developing beneath his eyes. His hair was tousled, dried blood caked in it. He looked a sorry sight. She wasn't really sure what to do.

"Gibbs is conscious, you know. I was talking to him earlier. He was wondering why you hadn't been to see him," she told him as she took the almost empty bottle away from him.

Tony looked up at her with pain-filled eyes.

"How can I face him?" he asked her crossly, his words slurring slightly. "He probably won't walk again and it's my fault. He must hate me. I hate me," he said, shielding his eyes.

"He doesn't hate you, Tony. He's worried about you," Ziva told him. "The doctors have said that the paralysis may only be temporary. He's taken the news better than anyone could have expected. But he's going to need us to be there for him. All of us."

"I can't," Tony sobbed. "I can't."

"You can and you will," Ziva snapped, deciding not to accept Tony's wallowing. "Get up right now! You're going to have a shower and something to eat. You'll feel better after that."

Tony didn't show any sign of movement, so Ziva grabbed him roughly by the arm and hauled him to his feet. Tony shook her off his arm and glared angrily at her.

"You can be mad at me all you want," Ziva said, "because anything is better than the self-pity you're drowning in."

She pushed him towards the bathroom. He stood stubbornly in the centre of the bathroom and showed no sign of undressing. So Ziva grabbed him and began opening the buttons on his shirt. She looked up into his melancholy eyes. He met her gaze and allowed his eyes to continue lower to her heaving chest and down to her delicate hands. She opened his shirt and tugged the tail out from his pants. She allowed her hands to glance over Tony's broad chest and shoulders as she removed it. Now his chest was heaving. No words were exchanged. She undid his belt and opened the button of his pants. Tony swallowed hard in anticipation of her continuing, but she shattered his hopes when she reached over and turned on the shower.

"I think you can manage the rest," she said, placing the palm of her hand on his cheek. "It's going to be okay, Tony," she said with sincerity. "Now get in the shower. You reek."

Tony almost managed a smile. He knew that he couldn't hide away from the world forever, however much he wanted to. So maybe a shower was the first step. The water was warm and comforting when he stepped in. The jet of water bounced off his skin as he stood there, appreciating the feeling. He turned, closed his eyes and let the water pour over his head, which still felt tender, and down his face. As he stood there, images of his boss lying bloodied and dying on the cabin floor invaded his mind once more. They had been haunting him ever since he got back. He quickly re-opened his eyes and stared into the jets of water, hoping the spray would wash away the horrors of the last couple of days. As the water stung his eyes, it easily disguised the flow of fresh tears. Tony was really struggling with the aftermath of the shooting. He even surprised himself by how hard he was taking it all. He chastised himself, urging himself to snap out of it. Ziva was right. Gibbs needed him. He had to face up to his responsibility and in his mind there was no doubt that he was responsible.

He stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, tied it around his waist and walked out to the kitchen where he found Ziva finishing making sandwiches. She turned when she heard him coming.

"You look better," she said, staring and silently appreciating his toned torso.

"I feel better," he replied. "I see you found everything," he said, referring to the food. "They look good but I'm not very hungry."

"You should try and eat something. You'll feel better. I've made some coffee too, so why don't you put some clothes on and we can eat," she suggested.

With that, Tony turned and returned to his room, leaving Ziva in the kitchen with a slight flush in her cheeks.

**_TBC_**

**_A/n - I hope you Tony H/C fans aren't too disappointed that I didn't whump DiNozzo but hope you like the little Tiva hint._**


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N - thanks to all you wonderful people who have taken the time to review. I apologise for not replying to each of you individually. RL keeping me busy at the moment. Hope the final few chapters live up to expectation._**

Chapter 9

Back at the hospital, Gibbs' woke and was relieved to find he was alone in his room. He was still very weak but grateful not to be in much pain. He stared up at the ceiling, allowing the seriousness of his predicament to sink in. He made a determined effort to move his left foot and then his right, but nothing worked. A sense of dread grew in the pit of his stomach. Was this how he was destined to end up? He lay there, despair gripping him, and involuntarily tears began to form in his eyes.

As he tried to hold back the tears, he caught a movement by the door and turned his head as far as he could, only to see his father entering his room.

"Dad."

"Hello, Son," Jackson Gibbs said, shuffling towards the bed. "Good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Gibbs turned his head away and returned to stare at the ceiling.

"You didn't have to come," Gibbs told him, his voice a bare whisper.

"Of course I did," his father explained. "When Ducky told me that you'd been shot, I dropped everything. Did you really think I wouldn't want to be here?"

Gibbs shook his head. He couldn't speak because he was suddenly overcome with emotion as the fears he had been bottling up finally broke the surface. He felt like a scared little boy lying there. He just wanted someone to hold him and tell him it would be okay. He wanted his dad. He turned his head away in shame and embarrassment as tears spilled down his cheeks. He couldn't bear his father seeing him cry.

But despite Gibbs' best efforts to conceal it, Jackson could see his son was distressed and knew, having spoken to Ducky, how scared he must be. He had only ever seen his son cry twice, the day his mother died and standing by the grave of his young family. He felt he had failed his son on those occasions in particular and lived with great regrets ever since. He had wanted to make up for it and had been trying for years. He felt huge relief when he and Leroy finally reconnected after such a long time apart. They were slowly rekindling their relationship and things between them were the best they had ever been.

Witnessing his son crumble in front of him, he did what felt natural. He leaned down and put his arms around him. He was his only son. That would never change, no matter how old he grew. Gibbs didn't object to his father's unexpected affection. He was beyond protest. He broke down in his father's arms and the dam burst. It was a heart-wrenching scene as the two grown men hugged and cried together.

"It will be okay, Son," Jackson said, in an effort to console him. He stood up, released his son from his arms and wiped his eyes. "You'll get back on your feet. I don't doubt it for a minute."

"There are no guarantees," Gibbs replied as he wiped his nose and began to compose himself.

"Who needs guarantees? You'll do whatever it takes. I've seen the way you get when you want something. You take the bit between your teeth and make it happen," Jackson said confidently.

Gibbs took a deep but shaky breath. He felt embarrassed having let his father see him like that. He had always been strong in front of other people. He'd had to be. Life had dealt him some severe blows and he had always coped, but he was starting to doubt if he could cope with an injury this severe. His life would never be the same. He remembered similar feelings of hopelessness after Shannon and Kelly had been killed. He felt like there was no reason to go on. He struggled to find a reason for living. He had come very close to ending it all back then. He remembered sitting on a log on a secluded beach where he and his family had gone horse-back riding shortly before he had been deployed to Kuwait. He remembered staring down the barrel of his gun, putting it in his mouth, tasting the metal, feeling the cold of the steel between his teeth. He never figured out what stopped him from pulling the trigger. He couldn't even remember how he got home that day. There had been quite an amount of bourbon consumed during that nightmare time, so whether he had buried the memory or just blacked out, he would never know. But he survived it, barely.

He wasn't sure if he could survive this latest challenge that had been thrown at him. If he was confined to a wheelchair, he would have to retire from NCIS. He tried to imagine what life would be like without the job he loved. It would be like losing his family all over again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to live through something as painful as that again. He knew there were options, desperate, woeful options if he chose to take the easy way out. Needless to say, he didn't mention these thoughts to his father.

"There are a lot of people who love you, Leroy, and they want to help you," his father told him. "You won't have to face any of this alone."

Gibbs nodded and thought of his friends. There were so many people he would hurt if he took the drastic decision to take the easy way out. He hated himself for even considering hurting them in that way. He decided to put those kinds of thoughts out of his head…for now at least. The doctor said there was a chance of recovery, so until he was told there was no chance, he would paint on a smile and put his best foot forward, so to speak.

"I met that new lady friend of yours here yesterday," Jackson told him with a wry smile.

"Who?"

"The nice doctor lady," Jackson replied.

"Ryan? Dr. Ryan?" Gibbs enquired.

"That's the one, attractive lady. Seemed pretty worried about you," Jackson winked.

"We're….. friends," Gibbs told him, hoping he wouldn't read too much into it. Jackson smiled.

"Don't push her away too, Leroy," Jack said seriously.

Gibbs didn't make any further comment. He had no intention of pushing her away, but maybe when she discovered the extent of his injury, she would look for a way out. If that was the case, there wasn't much he could do.

Jackson remained close to his son that day. He recognised a certain fragility in his son that was very out of character. He needed to keep an eye on him. Jethro slept for the most part, waking occasionally for short periods of time. The doctors were flooding his body with a cocktail of anti-inflammatories, antibiotics and pain medication, making it difficult for Gibbs to stay awake for very long. The doctor checked in a couple of times to see how he was doing and was happy with his progress.

Throughout the day, members of Gibbs' team called by and he appeared glad to see them and chatted a little with them. They were under doctor's orders not to tire him out.

Later that day, Gibbs woke and was surprised to find Tony in his room. He looked at his senior agent and a smile spread across his face. He felt hugely relieved to see him. Deep down, he had suspected that something bad had happened to DiNozzo, especially since he hadn't seen him once since he regained consciousness.

"Hey, Boss," Tony said demurely.

"Tony," Gibbs sighed. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Boss. I'm good," Tony said, without his usual confidence.

"I thought something had happened to you," Gibbs admitted.

"Just a bump on the head. Nothing to worry about," Tony explained. "I ….to be honest, I wasn't sure you'd want to see me."

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry, Boss. I messed up," Tony admitted, staring at the floor.

"I'm not sure I understand, Tony," Gibbs told him. "I'm on a lot of meds. They kinda mess with my head."

Tony considered his words carefully, but there was only one way to say what he wanted.

"You got shot because of my mistake," he told him, raising his head in a half-hearted attempt to meet Gibbs' gaze.

"What?"

"I didn't clear the area properly, don't you remember?"

"Yeah, I remember most of it. None of this is your fault, Tony," Gibbs insisted. "We should have predicted what Lewis would do. If anything, I messed up. I should have brought back up. He was a highly trained Seal and I risked both our lives by putting us in that situation. I'm sorry, Tony."

Tony's eyes brimmed with tears. He looked to the ceiling and tried to fight back his emotions. It was a rare occasion that Leroy Jethro Gibbs apologised.

"Come here."

"What?" Tony asked, not sure if he had heard correctly.

"Come here."

With that Tony stepped closer to Gibbs.

"Closer," Gibbs said with a sigh.

Tony leaned down nearer him, expecting him to whisper something, but instead he suddenly recoiled when he felt a smack to the back of his head.

"Ow. What was that for?"

"For blaming yourself," Gibbs said stony-faced.

"Gotcha, Boss," Tony replied. Nothing else needed to be said. It was how they were, in sync with each other.

He looked down at his boss and felt an ache in his heart seeing him like this. He was lying on the flat of his back, no pillows, just prone with a neck collar to stop him moving his neck. He could move his arms but beyond that, his range of motion was limited.

"Don't!" Gibbs snapped suddenly.

"What, Boss?" Tony asked, confused.

"Don't feel sorry for me," Gibbs growled.

"I wasn't," Tony argued.

"I can see it in your eyes, Tony. I don't need your pity. I need to know that you'll keep my team together, no matter what happens," Gibbs told him. "I need to know that you'll be strong for them. I know this has hit them hard and they'll need someone to be there for them. I'll be a bit busy beating this, so I want you to promise me, do you hear me?"

"I hear ye, Boss," Tony replied with confidence. "I won't let you down."

"Good man, now how about checking with the nurse if I can have a cup of coffee yet?" Gibbs asked.

"On it, Boss."

As Tony left, Gibbs squeezed his eyes shut as pain broke through the medicated barrier. It was the first real pain that he had experienced since waking up. He waited and it passed quickly. He felt a little nauseous and took deep breaths to suppress the feeling. He convinced himself that coffee would solve all.

_**A/N - Nearing the end of this one, folks. Another couple of chapters left. **_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/n - this is the penultimate chapter folks. I love your honesty in your reviews. Thanks again so much to everyone who stuck around to see where this story was going. I know some of you will cringe when you see how it ends. So - without further ado - chapter 9!**_

Chapter 10

Unfortunately for Gibbs, it was a negative on the coffee and now Tony was dreading going back into Gibbs with the bad news. He was considering how best to break it to him when he noticed Dr. Samantha Ryan walking down the corridor. She waved when she saw Tony.

"Hi," she said, approaching him. "Have you been to see Gibbs? How is he?"

"He seems okay. Quiet, but then again, he never really was the chatty type," Tony said, with a grin.

"You can say that again," Dr. Ryan agreed.

"I've got to go and break the news to him that he's not allowed coffee for another few days," Tony told her.

"Oh boy," she said with wide eyes. "How about I break the news to him?"

"Would you? That would be great," Tony said, glancing back in the direction of Gibbs' room. "Will you tell him I'll call by again tomorrow?"

Dr. Ryan agreed and Tony left. She knocked lightly on the door before she entered. Gibbs was resting his eyes but opened them immediately when he heard the knock. He turned towards the door. Dr. Ryan entered with a confident smile on her face. Gibbs didn't smile back.

"Hey, you," she said, walking up to the head of the bed and leaning to kiss him. His forehead was warm, a little too warm she noticed.

"What are you doing here?" he grunted rudely.

"Excuse me? We're in a bad mood I see," she said sarcastically. "Well, the news I bring isn't going to brighten you day then. No coffee, Tony tells me. He said he'll see you tomorrow."

He glared at her, recognizing that she wasn't afraid of him or his moods, therefore knowing that she wouldn't walk away.

"Oh, I get it, you didn't want me to see you like this?" she asked. "Well, guess what? It's not my first time seeing you. I was here when you were in the ICU, so I've seen you at your weakest, Gibbs, and I'm still here."

Deep down beneath the grouchy exterior, he was glad. He really didn't want her to go.

"I do understand what you're going through. I'm a doctor, you know? Depression, anxiety, frustration, it's only to be expected. The fear you're feeling is natural and when you're stronger, they'll want you to talk to a counsellor, but until then, you can always talk to me," she said, taking hold of his hand and holding it tightly.

Gibbs took a deep breath. As he did, another pain erupted in his abdomen, this one more intense than the last. He clutched his abdomen and cried out.

"Aargh!"

The suddenness of his actions startled Dr. Ryan.

"Gibbs? What is it?" she asked with a hint of panic in her voice.

"Something's not right," he growled through gritted teeth.

"Oh my God, I'll get someone," she said, hitting the emergency call button and then running to the door to call for assistance.

All the while, Gibbs was writhing in agony, his breathing becoming more rapid and panicked. A nurse arrived almost immediately. She saw how much pain the patient was in and immediately called for the doctor. As she waited for the doctor to arrive, she pulled back the sheet and opened Gibbs' hospital gown, revealing a large dressing from the base of his sternum to below his navel. She palpated his abdomen, which immediately amplified Gibbs' pain.

"What's wrong with him?" Dr. Ryan asked frantically.

"I have to wait for the doctor," the nurse told her, looking apologetic. She turned to her patient and tried to soothe him.

The doctor arrived, a little out of breath, having jogged from the on-call room. He and the nurse engaged in a whispered conversation before examining Gibbs' abdomen himself. He nodded to the nurse, who then left the room.

"Agent Gibbs, your abdomen is distended, which may indicate a secondary bleed or infection. We need to get you back down to surgery. The good news is that you're obviously feeling the pain, which believe it or not is an encouraging sign," the doctor said, placing his hand on his patient's shoulder.

Encouraging sign or not, Gibbs didn't really care at that stage. The pain was getting worse and he was starting to zone out. The doctor placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and instructed him to try and breathe normally. He pushed morphine into the IV for the pain and remained with his patient until more staff came to help transfer him to the OR.

Dr. Ryan stayed with Gibbs and held his hand as he was wheeled to the OR. He was in a morphine-induced haze by then, but remembered her kissing him on the lips before they took him inside. The lights were bright, he was floating and then he remembered no more.

Dr. Ryan sank into a chair outside the OR and took a deep breath. He hands were trembling. The suddenness of Gibbs' deterioration had shocked her. She didn't want to admit it, but it scared her, much more that she would have imagined. She felt a little sick to her stomach. Then she realised that Gibbs' team would need to know what was going on, so she rooted around her handbag for her cell phone and made a call to Dr. Mallard.

Ducky was in work when he got the call. He was also shocked when Dr. Ryan told him what had happened. Jethro had been making such good progress. He was worried, but he also knew that with penetrative injuries to the abdomen, there was an increased risk of infection. When he contacted the rest of the team, he explained that Gibbs had experienced a setback and told them exactly that. They tried to remain calm, but as expected, once Abby heard that her beloved Gibbs was back in surgery, she panicked and insisted on being there. There was no discouraging her. McGee agreed to take her to the hospital. And then of course, Ziva wanted to be there. Deep down, so did Ducky. As they were all leaving together, Tony stepped out of the elevator.

"What's going on?" he asked, surprised to see them all on their way out.

"It's Gibbs," Ziva told him. "He's back in surgery."

Tony was stunned. He had seen Gibbs at the hospital less than an hour earlier and he had seemed fine. He turned on his heels to return into the elevator and Abby piped up;

"I'll ride with Tony."

Tony drove with haste, anxious to find out about his boss. There was an awkward silence in the car as they got underway. Eventually, Abby broke the silence.

"I owe you an apology, Tony. This isn't your fault. I know I said some terrible things to you at the hospital and you didn't deserve that. It was just….I was so worried about Gibbs and really I just wanted to yell at him for putting himself in harm's way again. I know that's no excuse for taking it out on you. I feel awful. Do you think you can ever forgive me?" she asked with puppy dog eyes.

Tony stared at the road ahead. He bit his upper lip and nodded, remaining silent.

"I mean it, Tony. This is not your fault," Abby reiterated. "I know you would do anything for Gibbs. That's why I love you."

Tony turned to her and smiled.

"Love you too, Abs."

Abby relaxed a little, a weight of guilt lifted from her shoulders. Now, all she had to worry about was Gibbs.

When they arrived, they found Samantha Ryan sitting outside the OR, her eyes a little puffy as though she had been crying. Abby rushed straight to her.

"Tell me he's all right?" Abby said eagerly.

"I don't know, Abby," she replied sounding hesitant. "I'm waiting to hear."

Abby sat down beside her. When Ducky and the others arrived, Ducky went to see what he could find out. More waiting and worrying. Tony paced the corridor. Ziva propped up the wall. McGee sat with Abby and Dr. Ryan. Ducky eventually returned, looking a little less worried.

"Well?" DiNozzo asked anxiously.

"He's okay. They found a small intestinal bleed and underlying infection. They're repairing the intestine and clearing the infection. He's stable and doing well. It's a routine procedure and he should be back in his room in an hour or so," Ducky explained. "I'll call Jackson. He should be informed."

Meanwhile, the team breathed a collective sigh of relief. A series of hugs and smiles ensued before they all relaxed and waited with Dr. Ryan.

Eventually, Gibbs was wheeled back to his room and his team were allowed see him briefly. The doctor took Ducky aside and explained about Gibbs' condition.

"We'll keep a close eye on the infection, but the stronger antibiotic should deal with that. He is still very weak, but there is some more positive news. We've noticed the return of some polysynaptic reflexes, which would indicate that he is recovering from the spinal shock. As you know, it is likely that he will experience some hyperreflexia, which can be painful. He will require physical therapy, but I'm very encouraged with the early signs," the doctor explained.

"That is good news, Doctor. I do realise that it will be a slow recovery, but we will all be here for him. Thank you, Doctor," Ducky told him. They shook hands and parted.

Ducky told the team the good news. Again, relief washed over them. Abby even shed a tear of joy.

"You should all go back to work. We won't all be allowed to stay. I'll stay with him until he wakes," Ducky told them.

They reluctantly agreed and returned to the Navy Yard. Ducky and Dr. Ryan remained at Gibbs' bedside. He woke slowly and smiled when he saw the two concerned faces standing beside him. Dr. Ryan was holding his hand and he gave it a gentle squeeze. He noticed that his bed was slightly raised, the first time it was in that position since he had been admitted. And the neck brace was gone.

"You're still here," he said, looking into Samantha's eyes.

"Of course I am," she said softly.

"Hey, Duck," he said, turning towards his old friend.

"Hello, Jethro," Ducky said, cheerfully. "What a week you've had, my friend."

Gibbs smiled weakly. What a week indeed. He shifted his position slightly. He felt a twinge as his stitches pulled and winced.

"Easy there, Jethro," Ducky said, fixing his pillow. "You mustn't forget that you've been through two major surgeries in the last few days."

Gibbs nodded. Dr. Ryan looked quizzically at Ducky.

"I spoke to the doctor after your surgery. He informed me that your polysynaptic reflexes are returning," Ducky told him.

"My what, Duck?"

"Ah, sorry, Jethro, force of habit. Polysynaptic reflexes, they're electrical impulses that signal, among other things, pain. It's a sign that your spinal cord injury is healing. Unfortunately for you, it means that you will experience quite a bit more pain in the next few days, but it also means that you're going to get better," Ducky explained.

"I'll walk again?" Gibbs asked warily.

"Absolutely. It might take some time but you will be back on your feet," Ducky told him with confidence.

Gibbs didn't often smile, but he couldn't help the wide, uninhibited grin that crept across his face. Dr. Ryan saw his relief and felt the same as he. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"You see? I told you," she said, unable to hide her delight. "Now all you need to do is listen to your doctor, do as you're told and you'll be home before you know it."

"Yes, Ma'am," Gibbs said with a cheeky grin. Home - that was where he wanted to be. He closed his eyes, drifted off and dreamt of home.

TBC

_**Final chapter coming soon!**_


	11. Chapter 11

**_A/N - here we go. Gonna wrap this up so I can have the rest of the weekend off! :-) Hope you like it. It gets a little mushy, so be warned!_**

**_And as I should have said at the start, I do not own these characters. I just borrow them every now and again._**

Chapter 11

Gibbs felt better than he had felt for a long time. He was back where he wanted to be and almost as good as new. He leaned heavily on a cane as he waited for the elevator door to open, the only obvious hint of the ordeal he had been through. He had stepped through those elevator doors a thousand times, but this time he felt a little nervous and couldn't put his finger on why. Taking a deep breath, he threw his shoulders back and straightened up when the elevator pinged. The doors slid open and he stepped out, a slight twinge in his back serving as a reminder each time he put weight on his right leg. The cane was for those times when the twinge became more severe.

As he emerged from the elevator, almost every eye in the office turned towards him and noticeable nudges and whispers heralded his arrival. Gibbs felt very self-conscious and his pride wanted to hide the cane, but his doctor's warnings rang in his head: use it! They all knew he had been seriously wounded and most hadn't seen him for the best part of three months. There were a few shouts of 'welcome back, Gibbs' and 'good to see you, Gibbs' from colleagues around the office. He nodded, raised his hand in acknowledgement and continued towards his desk, feeling slightly embarrassed. There was no sign of his team. He shrugged and walked around to his chair.

He grinned broadly when he saw his desk. Someone, he suspected Abby, had decorated the wall behind his chair and his PC with 'Welcome Back' banners and love hearts. She had even placed a back support in his chair. He looked around. Everything was pretty much as he had left it, everything in its place. He eased himself into his chair and relaxed back. Having been through hell for the last few months, normality felt good.

The path to normality wasn't quite as straight and simple as he would have liked. He experienced twists and turns, highs and lows before eventually reaching his destination. Following his second surgery, he remained quite ill for the best part of a week before the infection cleared and he started to feel close to his normal self. Being confined to bed for the majority of that time was torture. Not only was he helpless, relying on the nurses and doctors for his every need, but as his reflexes returned he often suffered painful muscle spasms that seemed to last forever. He found the whole excruciating experiencing humiliating. It took another couple of weeks before he was allowed to walk any distance, and even then he had to be aided by a member of staff. He tried his best to keep positive in front of his team. He only allowed two of them to see him at his weakest, Ducky and Tony. They were the only two he let help him walk to the bathroom or short distances along the corridor. They were the only two he allowed to see his true pain.

For Tony, this was the most difficult part. His heart ached as he watched his boss struggle to take just a couple of steps, hearing the catch in his breath as a dart of pain hit him and Gibbs' grip on his forearm when the pain got too much. Tony tried to be there for him for every painful step, catching him when his frail body failed him. As usual, they never exchanged much in the way of deep conversation, just small talk broken with meaningful moments of unspoken truth. Gibbs made it clear from the outset that he didn't want the younger agent's pity, just his help. And Tony never let him down. Silently, he dealt with his guilt, his penance to act as Gibbs' emotional crutch.

And there was little Gibbs could ever hide from Ducky. He talked to him more openly than he talked to anyone else. Ducky asked the questions that no one else dared ask. His medical expertise gave him an advantage in that respect. He could see that Jethro was struggling and tried to coax him into talking to someone. But as stubborn as ever, Gibbs insisted that he could handle it all. Ducky, of course, worked his own magic and spoke to Dr. Ryan behind Gibbs' back and would give her a heads up whenever he had a particularly bad day.

Gibbs spent a long six weeks in hospital, during which time he experienced a rollercoaster of emotions. The frustration of being dependent on others was difficult for him to bear. He was testy, snapping at anyone and everyone. As his activity level increased, he found himself in almost constant pain, reliant on meds, which wore him down and he slowly sank into a depression, not wanting to see anyone.

His frustration led to anger and he would lash out, verbally, most of the time. Despite his often unbearable moods and frequent hurtful remarks, his team never once let him down. They ensured that he was never alone for very long. They worked a rota and each spent several hours every week with their boss. When he needed a shoulder to cry on, someone was there. When he needed a punching bag, someone was there. When he needed the truth, they gave it to him straight. Sometimes the truth hurt, but he was hit with it anyway because his team, his family, knew it was the only way to get him through this.

Jackson Gibbs stayed at his son's house for several weeks and visited the hospital every day until he was convinced that his son would recover. He eventually had to return to Stillwater to make some arrangements with regards to his store. His intention was to be back in DC when Gibbs was discharged. He knew his son would need assistance around the house for the first while.

To Gibbs' surprise, Dr. Ryan continued to come to see him, despite his early attempts at pushing her away as he fell into a depression. She could see straight through him. She put her psychological training to good use. He would often snap at her and tell her not to "shrink" him, but she would shrug off his belligerence. Nights when he felt defeated and broken, she would arrive to his room and remind him of service men in that very hospital who were far worse off than he was. She would figuratively slap him upside his head, chastise him for his negativity and then give him one of her seductive smiles to let him know it was all right. She would bring him coffee from his favourite diner some mornings and almost every evening, which really brightened his day. They would share a coffee, she would tell him about her day, the parts that weren't classified at least, and he would listen, finding comfort in the sound of her voice.

She made him feel calm. He had no idea what magic she was weaving, but she was definitely getting under his skin. He was surprised how much he missed her when she wasn't there. She was a strong, intelligent woman, undeniably confident and stunningly attractive. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was definitely something there.

Ducky could see the change in his friend through the weeks, not just the physical improvement, but the emotional one also. Despite the trauma and stressful circumstances, Jethro was verging on happiness. Ducky continuously monitored and discussed Jethro's progress with his doctors and knew each time he had a set back or a bad day. He would come to visit and Gibbs would be petulant and sullen. On many such occasions he would arrange for Dr. Ryan to call by and almost instantly Gibbs' face would light up as though someone had flipped a switch. He had seen it before and knew the signs. Gibbs had fallen for this woman. He just hoped she wouldn't break his heart.

After his initial six weeks in hospital, Jethro was transferred to a rehab unit attached to the hospital, where he underwent weeks of intensive physical therapy. He endured hours of tortuous exercises and therapies, whose sole aim was to strengthen the muscles in his abdomen and back and get him walking unaided again. He was so determined to get back to the way he was, he often overexerted himself. Sometimes in his rush to get better, he would in fact re-injure the site and end up worse off. Eventually his therapists had to sit him down and convince him to trust them and to go at the pace they set. If he did, they promised him that he would reach his goal. He listened to them, realising that they were the experts and were only trying to their best by him. In the rehabilitation unit, he met young men and women far worse off than he. They were mostly young Marines back from Afghanistan with blast injuries, disfigurements, lost limbs and brain injuries. They were heroes who were trying to rebuild their lives after paying an enormous price in the service of their country.

It humbled him and he mellowed somewhat. How could he feel sorry for himself when these young people were getting on with it? He would get better. Many of them wouldn't and would have to adapt to their limitations. Talking to them set him straight. It helped get him in the right frame of mind. If they could do it, then so could he. He worked hard, pushed himself sometimes beyond his physical limits. He would often be exhausted by the time he was back in his room and asleep when his visitors arrived.

His hard work did pay and three months after that fateful day in Shenandoah, he stepped through the front door of his house. Tony had picked him up from the hospital and drove him home. He was surprised to find his father in the kitchen, cooking a steak dinner. Tony had to rush because the team had caught a case, so he left Gibbs with his father. Once Tony left, Jackson hugged his son tightly.

"I told you you'd beat it," he said proudly.

He handed his son a cold beer.

"So, you gonna stand there or you gonna eat?" Jack said, turning his back and reaching for two plates.

"Smells good," Gibbs said, limping slightly to the kitchen table and gingerly sitting down.

"They gave you a cane, I see," Jackson noted.

"Yep! Doc said I'm to use it for another couple of weeks," Gibbs said, dropping the cane to the floor. "DiNozzo said it makes me look like Dr. House, whatever that means."

"Hah! I've seen that show," Jackson said, placing the plates on the table. "You know, he's right."

Gibbs shrugged, still not getting the joke, and then tucked into the best meal he'd had in months. That evening he went down to his basement. He had missed the solitude of his own space. He took a sander in his hand and slowly ran it along the beam of his latest project. Each time he stretched to reach the higher beam, his body would remind him that he wasn't one hundred percent. After only a short time, his back felt tired and achy. Again, the wise words of his doctors telling him not to over-do it rang in his ears. He called it a night. He smiled as he hauled his leaden body up the stairs; he was getting sensible in his old age.

The next morning, Dr. Ryan called by bringing coffee and bagels. Jackson, none too subtle, decided that he had to take a walk and left Gibbs and Ryan on the sofa together. She smiled deviously at Gibbs and Gibbs blushed slightly. Ryan was never one for waiting for him to make the first move, so she leaned over and kissed him passionately on the lips. He responded in kind. After a short while, they came up for air.

"I've been waiting to do that for a long time. How long do you think he'll be gone?" Ryan asked artfully.

"Long enough," Gibbs replied.

"Can you manage the stairs?" she asked, standing up and taking his hand.

Gibbs grinned.

"I can manage a lot of things," he said, standing slowly. She led him by the hand, up the stairs, to his bedroom.

They made gentle, leisurely love that morning, Ryan careful to take things slow and not hurt Gibbs. After their love-making, she lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, her fingers tracing the large scar running down his abdomen.

"I was scared, you know," she admitted softly.

"Huh? Scared of what?"

"Losing you," she replied sheepishly.

He pulled her closer but said nothing. Her honesty had caught him off guard. He still wasn't sure where this was going, but he liked where it was at right now. They lay in each other's arms until they heard Jackson returning.

"I'd better be going," Ryan said, sitting up and looking around for her clothes.

"What's the rush?" Gibbs asked.

"It's 10.30am. I was supposed to be in work an hour ago," she said, pulling on her blouse.

"We should do this again sometime," Gibbs said cheekily.

Ryan smiled and threw his shirt at him playfully, hitting him in the face.

"So, how about dinner? My place, tomorrow?" Ryan asked as she wriggled into her skirt.

"Sounds good," Gibbs replied, putting his hands behind his head and watching her dress.

She leaned over and kissed Gibbs before heading down the stairs, shouting goodbye to Jackson and leaving.

The next evening, Gibbs drove to Ryan's house, even though he wasn't really supposed to be driving yet. He spent a relaxing evening with Ryan and her son, Parker. Parker was fifteen years old and very impressed to have a government agent dating his mom. He asked to see Gibbs' weapon, but Gibbs told him that he was off duty and didn't carry while off duty. He lied. Gibbs never left home without his side arm, but guessed that his mother wouldn't be happy if he let him hold a gun.

Parker was very curious and cross-examined him about what it was like to get shot. Ryan apologised for her son's inquisitiveness but Gibbs told her not to. He didn't mind telling his war stories to the young lad. He was surprisingly candid and told the youngster of some of his previous injuries and how this time, he was sure he was going to die. Parker asked if he was scared when it happened and Gibbs answered honestly. Yes, he was most definitely scared.

Parker, like any young lad, wanted to see his scars, but his mother quickly interjected and made an excuse that dessert was ready and asked Parker to help her. She mouthed an apology to Gibbs, who just smiled and shook his head. He liked the boy. He was curious but sensible, very like his mother.

The three of them spent a lovely evening together. Gibbs enjoyed the family dynamic and it poignantly reminded him of his own loss. He didn't spend the night, both agreeing that it would be confusing for Parker.

The following day, he had a meeting with Director Vance to discuss his return to work. His doctor had passed him fit to resume light duties, much to his relief. Vance and he discussed his restrictions and his role within the team until he had recovered. They agreed that Tony would be the senior agent in the field and that Gibbs would supervise cases from his desk in the short term. While it would be difficult for Gibbs not to be able to work in the field, he had no problem trusting that part of the job to Tony. He knew that it would only be temporary. They agreed that he would return to active duty the following Monday.

And he did. He was just settling in behind his desk when Abby bounded around the corner.

"Gibbs! You're back!" she yelled excitedly.

"Hey, Abs. Where is everyone?"

"Dead Marine in Georgetown. The call came in an hour ago. They'll be mad that they're not here to welcome you back, Gibbs," Abby said.

"I don't want a fuss, Abs. So, do we have an ID on the Marine yet?" he asked.

"Straight back into it, eh, Gibbs?"

"Absolutely," Gibbs said, trying to conceal his delight. "But first, coffee!"

"C'mon, Bossman," Abby said, waving her arm. "My shout."

**_THE END_**

**_A/N - well, love it or hate it, that's the end of it! Again, thanks to you all for reviewing and contacting me. You really made me feel like this was worthwhile. It means a lot to see that other people enjoy my humble stories. _**

**_Till next time...Ciao!_**


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